


History favours the bold

by lestigres



Category: British Comedy RPF, British TV Celebrities RPF
Genre: Angst, Butch/Femme, Communication Failure, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Smut, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Sex, Minor Original Character(s), Queer Themes, Slow Romance, Smut, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestigres/pseuds/lestigres
Summary: Lucy Worsley is a quintessentially English historian specialising in castles who is going through a complicated time with her partner, Mark.Sue Perkins is a dreamy butch comedian renowned for her sharp wit and cheeky sense of humour, who longs to connect with someone at a deeper intellectual level.When they meet on the set of a historical documentary, Sue is smitten, but Lucy is unimpressed.Tea, shortbread, and historical banter ensues, as Sue tries to win Lucy over. But will Lucy deal with the feelings of her past in order to take the next step with Sue? And will Sue be able to find what she’s really looking for in Lucy, who seems to always hold her at arm’s length?





	1. The wrong side of the bed

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic because I was surprised at the lack of F/F smut featuring either Lucy Worsley or Sue Perkins, and I thought they would make for a really hot AF pairing, so here we are. 
> 
> I’ve tried as much as possible to make the character backgrounds and subject matter somewhat factual, but there will likely be some inaccuracies, and I have obvs made a stack of stuff up for the sake of the story. 
> 
> This is my first fic, so I’m hoping you’ll all enjoy it. I’m totally keen for any suggestions on plot directions or constructive feedback. Enjoy!

_Recommended listening:[Strangers by Ed Harcourt](https://open.spotify.com/album/1sCFSmYWg2qYdIlutGlgGV?si=8vyZbknfQ_S--5osCk6HVQ)_

It was one of those unseasonably cold days in spring, where the weather hadn’t quite got the memo that winter departed more than a month ago. Frost dusted the ground and sparkled in the early morning sunlight. The smell of wet grass and early spring flowers surrounded her.

She breathed in deeply.

But all this natural beauty didn’t help Lucy’s mood. She hated when things didn’t run to time.

A clumsy intern armed with a paper cup full of mediocre coffee had started a small electrical fire in the caravan that acted as a green room. And so there Lucy stood, her favourite pair of tan winter boots getting muddied in this too-damned-cold field outside Alnwick Castle, her teal peacoat barely keeping out the icy wind that bit across the field.

There were dozens of people hurrying around the place setting up the shot for the documentary they were there to produce: camera operators, about a dozen people with clipboards and tablets, and never mind the obnoxious director that she’d swore she would never work with again, because he always wanted to dumb down documentaries for the viewers at home. Lucy was all for making history more accessible to people, but heaven forbid she use vocabulary that might cause someone to look up the meaning of a word now and then. It was infuriating.

“Excuse me,” she called—a little more tersely than she probably should have—to a terrified-looking assistant a few yards away. “Are we starting filming soon? We’re running nearly an hour late, and I’ve an interview I need to leave for at 11:15.”

The assistant startled, staring at her like a deer in headlights. “Uhhh just—just a—a few more minutes Ms Worsley,” he spluttered anxiously at her. “It’s just—we’re waiting on Ms Perkins to finish filming the intro bit, and she only just arrived.”

Lucy glared irritably at the the throng of cameras being set up in front of the castle, and saw someone from wardrobe adjusting the collar of the duffel coat on Sue Perkins, as a hair stylist fussed at her coiffed black hair with gel and hairspray. Lucy gritted her teeth in frustration. So this was the reason everything was running so late.

“I’ve been waiting more than hour! And twenty minutes of that has been out here in this wretchedly icy air,” Lucy bristled.

The assistant’s eyes darted between Lucy, and the throng of people surrounding Ms Perkins, his mouth bobbing stupidly like a goldfish.

“It’s just... I’m sorry ma’am, but the director—he wants to get the morning light for Ms Perkins’s scene.”

“Oh for heavens sake,” she rolled her eyes and sighed in contempt. “Can you at least fetch me an Earl Grey tea then, so I don’t freeze to death?”

The assistant’s head nodded rapidly and in earnest, but then the director’s voice thundered above the din: “Watson! Where are the papers for the castle?”

The assistant’s head spun in the direction of the director. “Yes, sir, coming right away, sir,” and paused, looking back at Lucy to make a ‘just-a-minute’ gesture with his index finger before hurrying over to the director, flipping through papers on his clipboard and tripping over his feet as he went.

Twenty minutes later, Lucy was still freezing, and still without tea. She’d been wanting to avoid the pell mell of the area around where the filming was happening, but her fingertips were going numb, in spite of the little hot packs she’d tucked into the pockets of her peacoat.

Huffing, she said to no one in particular, “I suppose I’ll get the tea myself, then,” and she strode over towards the van that served as a canteen. It was a van with a counter that was a few feet above the heads of the customers.

“G’day, what can I get ya?” an Australian accent—or was it New Zealand? She could never tell—called down from over the edge of the counter.

“I’ll...” Lucy started, but as she looked up at the source of the voice, she stopped stupidly mid-sentence. A tall, muscled young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, gleamed back at her in a way that was all-too-energetic for 6:33 in the morning. He was gorgeous. He had a short stubbly beard, windswept-looking light brown hair, and a bronze tan on his face that he couldn’t possibly have acquired from an English winter. He grinned at her and his left cheek dimpled.

Lucy blinked at him a few times. “Oh. I’ll—I’ll have a Gearl—sorry—an Earl Grey tea. Thank you,” she blurted at him. A blush rose on her cheeks over her garbled words. She blew hot air onto her cupped hands, hoping he’d think she was merely cold, and not swooning like an idiot.

It’d been happening a lot lately—her swooning over beautiful creatures such as this. Her and her husband, Mark, had agreed to open their marriage, so Mark could explore his newly-discovered fondness for men. Lucy was fine with it, of course—monogamy was a fairly new construct anyway, as far as history was concerned. And it meant she had many options for how to spend her time, so she was rather enjoying behaving a little bit like she had in her days studying at Oxford: falling down historical rabbit holes, and falling into bed with interesting people she encountered along the way.

But this young man was quite the specimen. His athletic shoulders were draped in a black cable knit sweater that beautifully framed his clavicles and his neck, and his sweater sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, showing off muscled forearms.

“No worries, Earl Grey,” he responded. “Guess you’re not one for early mornings, ay?” he said playfully, letting out a cheeky smile as he started preparing her tea.

“Not terribly, no, and I’ve just given up coffee,” Lucy responded.

“Ahhh, righto, makes sense then! I’m useless without two coffees before I get up to go surfing. Not—“ he paused, a bit awkwardly and laughed at himself. “Not that I get to do much surfing around here. Just got here from Sydney a few weeks ago, ay. ” He smiled and leaned over to hand down the tea in a corrugated paper cup.

Lucy looked at the milky tea he’d given her forlornly. “Oh. Oh I’m so sorry, but you don’t typically put milk into an Earl Grey,” she said, biting her lip at him in apology. In front of him, she felt like one of those prissy Englishwomen that people love to make fun of.

“Ah! Sorry ‘bout that!” He gestured for the cup. “Gimme a sec, I’ll make you a new one.”

“And... perhaps—” she said, as she heard him rustling for a fresh tea bag—

“Yeah?” He called.

“Perhaps—a bit longer on the steeping time? Three to five minutes is best. It brings out the bergamot aromas much better.” She cringed uncharacteristically at her own words. “I’m such a pedant when it comes to these things, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Forget about it,” he waved his hand like it was nothing, still smiling. “One Earl Grey, no milk, coming up in three to five minutes.” He rested his elbow on the counter, and beamed at her. That dimple again. Her stomach fluttered.

“So you’re Australian, then?” she asked, as she tapped the toe of her boot on the ground absent-mindedly. She used her hand to shield her squinting eyes from the sun that was now rising in earnest over the horizon.

“Yeah. Just finished at uni—Landscape Architecture. My cousin got me the job. That guy in the red jumper.” He pointed at Watson, who she’d tortured earlier about the delays and the tea. She felt a pang of remorse. “I’m doing a gap year before I start work back in Australia,” he continued. “You guys have some awesome formal gardens here in the UK—”

Her stomach fluttered again over the way he drawled out the word “gaaaardens” in his Australian accent.

“—Well, you and France. I hear the Palace of Versailles—” he completely mispronounced it; she winced internally—“is pretty alright.” He flashed his toothy smile in jest and winked as he said it. That smile though.

They introduced themselves—his name was Andy—and they chatted about interesting gardens that Andy planned on visiting throughout England while her tea steeped. She ran her tongue lightly along the tip of her teeth as she listened to him talk. She recommended Audley End to him—“It’s a beautiful example of a Jacobean mansion house,”—and he took a note down on his phone. After chatting for a few minutes, he finished making the tea, and walked down the stairs at the side of the van and round the front to hand it to her where she stood. Standing right next to him, she realised he was much taller than she originally thought, about a foot taller than her petite self.

“Here you go, Lucy. One Earl Grey tea, no milk, steeped for—“ he checked his watch, “—about 4 minutes and 43 seconds.”

“Thankyou very much, that looks much more my style,” she raised her eyebrows, smiling and squinting up at him again in the sunlight as she took the tea with two hands and inhaled the aroma deeply with satisfaction. The warm cup made her feel instantly more calm than she had all morning.

“And—“ he paused for a moment. “And... here’s my number as well, in case... you want to take me on a tour of Audley End, was it?” he grimaced a little hopefully and bit his lip, as he passed her a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. She lingered her gaze on him for just a moment before tearing her eyes away by blinking a few times.

“Oh,” she said, blushing, genuinely surprised that he was interested in her also. “Oh, that might also be very much my style,” she said, glancing up at him and taking a sip from the hot tea.

“Sweet,” he responded, smiling and nodding to himself, looking a little pleased.

In the background, she heard the director shout, “That’s a wrap. Right, let’s get set up for the next one,” as lots of hustle and bustle ensued. People started walking towards the canteen.

“So, are you cast or crew?” Andy asked.

“Well, cast, I suppose. I’m a historian. I’m rather knowledgeable about castles, you see,” she said, raising her voice over the din that was enveloping them.

But a voice behind her hollered, getting louder with every step, “I don’t care what you say, Tony, history is always better with more puns!” and as Lucy turned to look over her shoulder, the person behind her, who had been walking backwards and looking in the other direction, bumped into her rather violently as they turned towards the canteen.

The tea spilled all over the front of her peacoat.

“Are you kidding me?” Lucy scoffed quietly, infuriated, placing the remaining tea on the counter above them. Andy grabbed a wad of serviettes, and went to dab at the front of her peacoat, thought better of it, and then offered the serviettes to Lucy. Lucy took them from him as Sue Perkins spun around and winced at her.

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry!” Sue exclaimed. “Here, let me help. I can... get water? More serviettes? More tea?” she offered helplessly. Lucy sniffed, annoyed. Did this woman ever cease being a comedian?

“Lucy, isn’t it. I’m so, so sorry Lucy.” Sue continued fussing.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy retorted, rolling her eyes without looking at her. This woman had made her wait in the cold by being late for the shoot, and now she’d have to take her best peacoat to the dry cleaners. She could feel the tea seeping through to her dress.

“You ok, Lucy?” Andy asked, worrying over her.

“Yes, fine, fine. I’ll be fine,” Lucy huffed.

“Again, so sorry,” Sue continued blathering in a well-meaning way. “Here, take my duffel,” Sue offered, taking off her heavy, navy blue duffel coat.

“Lucy,” another person appeared from amongst the chaos now forming around the canteen van. “Lucy, we’ve got to get you into makeup—oh, what’s happened to your coat?” the person asked, staring at Lucy’s front.

“A rather nice cup of Earl Grey tea, is what happened, Jaime,” Lucy grizzled.

“And me. Still sorry. Again. I’m so clumsy.” Sue interjected. Lucy wished Sue would stop carrying on so much, but she removed her peacoat and took up Sue’s offer of the duffel, as bits of the tea had soaked through to her dress underneath, and even a short moment in the cold wind with the wet tea on her chest felt freezing.

“Ugh what a nightmare, Luce—“ Jaime groaned. “Don’t worry about it. Jawed will find something for you in wardrobe. Come on, we’ve got to get cracking. This will make us run even later.”

Lucy followed Jaime as they led her off to another caravan to find a new outfit, leaving Sue blinking, and Andy glancing toward her as she hurried away.


	2. A bee in one’s bonnet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy tries to deal with her sullen mood and her angst about Sue

The duffel was several sizes too big for her, but it was toasty and warm from Sue’s body heat, and it was a lot thicker than her own peacoat, so that was something. Lucy looked down at the coat, and noticed the wooden toggles had a line of red paint around the indents in the wood, and there was a silver fern brooch pinned to the left breast of the duffel. She fidgeted with the topmost toggle that was unfastened as she walked along behind Jaime.

As she walked, she became aware of a scent nearby that she rather enjoyed.

“Jaime, can you smell that? Did you get a new fragrance? It smells like... something... citrusy and woody,” Lucy asked, inquisitively, not able to quite identify the scents.

“Luce, do you think I ever have time to pay attention to personal grooming?” Jaime laughed, genuinely entertained. “You know how hard Tony works us on shoots. I’m happy when I get to have a shower first thing!”

Lucy sniffed as she walked along, failing to find the source of the scent. It seemed to be following her. Shortly, they arrived at the wardrobe caravan.

“Jawed, we’ve had a tea situation,” Jaime announced, gesturing at Lucy as they trundled up the caravan steps.

“Don’t fret, Jay, I’m on it. Welcome back, Luce!” Jawed and Lucy had worked together dozens of times, and he hugged Lucy and kissed her on the cheek. “What’s happened to my favourite history professor?” Jawed exclaimed, putting his hands on her shoulders as Lucy unfastened the toggles of the duffel, revealing the tea stain on her dress underneath. Jawed took the coat for her, folded it neatly, and placed it gently on a chair by the door.

“Sue Perkins,” Lucy replied, throwing a steely glare at Jawed.

“Oh, that woman is like a bull in a china shop.” Jawed teased, and Lucy nodded, looking stern.

“But—she’s one of the best in the business,” defended Jaime. Lucy gave Jaime a doubtful look, as Jawed started sifting through racks of clothes for a new wardrobe for Lucy.

“I can’t handle the incessant joking. It gets so tedious,” Lucy scoffed. “And she’s the reason we’re all running late this morning, don’t you know.”

“Look, I get it. I know you like to...uh... take things a bit more seriously,” Jaime said, smiling delicately as Lucy raised her eyebrows defensively. “But Sue... she’s...” Jaime was holding back. “Well, there’s more to her than you might first realise.”

“Well, she’s not faring too well in my books,” Lucy muttered, pursing her lips sourly.

“Geez, bee in your bonnet, much?” Jawed gaped at Lucy’s uncharacteristic snark, as he handed her a white dress patterned with delicate blue and red flowers. He exchanged a dramatic look with Jaime.

“It’s just...I—“ Lucy began, and then paused as she began changing into the dress. It wasn’t just Sue Perkins. But did she really have the energy to finally unpack the frustration brimming below the surface? All the confusion she’d been feeling? The distance she’d felt from Mark for a while now? No, she decided. She was at work, after all! And she was meant to have her shit together. She pressed all those feelings back into the box in her brain that she’d been shoving everything into lately. “Oh, never mind. I’m being unprofessional. I just hate lateness.”

She straightened up in front of the mirror, and gestured at the buttons on the back of the dress. Jawed stepped behind her to fasten them, then squeezed her shoulders bracingly with both hands and leaned into the crook of her neck, looking straight at her through her reflection in the mirror.

“If a late start has got you in this mood, Luce—you’ll have to talk to someone about what’s really going on at some point,” he resigned quietly to her as he smoothed his hands across her shoulders, and carefully guided a lock of her blonde hair back into place. Lucy looked back at him in the mirror, brows furrowed. He turned to grab a red A-line coat off the rack, and held it open for her as she slipped it on.

“There, I’ve done it again!” he mused loudly to the room, delighted with himself. “You’re ready. Talk soon, Luce?” He said, passing her the navy coat as Jaime ushered her out of the caravan.


	3. Take 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue gives Lucy eyes on the set. Lucy doesn't know how to react.

After being interrupted by a light shower of rain for ten minutes, they were onto final preparations, as the hairstylist tidied her hair and saw to it with hairspray, whilst the makeup artist suggested a new shade of red lipstick to match her red coat called “Currant Affair”: the name made her cringe, but she did love the way it looked when she did a final check in the mirror.

She spoke the line, “Alnwick Castle has been part of English history for over 700 years, evolving and adapting its purpose and appearance throughout the centuries,” about 17 times before the director was happy with it.

In between takes, she glanced around and thought she’d noticed Andy watching a few takes, and her heart sped up a little.

In amongst the fray, she also saw Sue milling about in a faux-fur-lined brown aviator’s jacket that framed her shoulders squarely, over the top of a chambray shirt buttoned up all the way to the top. She chatted to people animatedly between takes. As Lucy watched her, she realised hadn’t ever really noticed what a lean figure Sue had. She was unmistakably and uncommonly masculine, and seemed so at ease with herself. People of all kinds seemed to flock around her, whether for a quick hello, or a longer exchange.

In one of the longer breaks, Lucy watched as Sue interacted with one of the camera operators who was doubled over in laughter. As Sue turned her head back towards the set, she noticed Lucy watching, and her eyes bore into Lucy’s for a brief moment.

Lucy’s mouth fell open the tiniest amount, suddenly very aware of her warm breath escaping her mouth, taken aback that Sue had caught her staring. But their eyes were momentarily fixed on one another.

Sue wore thick, black rectangular spectacles that made her blue eyes dark and intense. In that brief moment, Sue’s expression was hard to read: her mouth was very even, but her lip curled up ever so slightly at one end, in a look that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a smirk.

Lucy shook her head a little to tear her eyes away from Sue’s gaze, and turned to look at the director. She pretended to wait for instructions for the next take, but she was actually just staring blankly, her mind fuzzy as she tried to decipher the knot that had just formed in her stomach. Her heart was hammering uncomfortably in her chest.

She could see Sue’s unmoving figure at the edge of her eye line as she began to shoot the next take, but when she turned back at the end of the cut, Sue was gone.

At the end of the shoot, Lucy hurried to collect her bag from where she’d left it, still hoping she could make it to her appointment despite being well behind schedule. As she picked up her bag, she realised Sue’s duffel was still sitting underneath it, and her peacoat had not been returned.

She asked a few people nearby if they knew anything of the whereabouts of her peacoat, but nobody had seen it.

“Well, what about Sue Perkins? Is she still here?” she asked a sound tech, who was busy wrapping up cables into neat bundles.

“Nae, Sue left almost... 2 hours ago, lass,” the woman replied.

She looked up at the sky and huffed in exasperation. Her favourite bloody peacoat was gone for good, and she was stuck babysitting Sue Perkins’s duffel coat. In frustration, she considered for a moment leaving it behind for someone else to deal with. But she wasn’t that vindictive, and she knew it. She wouldn’t leave Sue’s coat to get lost amongst all the chaos, so she took it with her, and decided she’d see if she could get Jaime to return it to Sue later in the week.

She piled her bag and the duffel onto the passenger’s seat of her car, and drove to her interview in Leeds, about two hours away, noticing that the pleasant scent of of citrus and wood that she’d smelled earlier seemed to be following her.


	4. Lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue calls Lucy unexpectedly about the lost peacoat, and flirting ensues.

_Recommended listening:[I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too by Martha Wainwright](https://open.spotify.com/album/1XnCGxpZRLGzMkTkAftNrP?si=YIvGf6NdScytkd975XZUPg)_

Several days later, she was sitting in her cottage in rural Leicestershire, on a warm afternoon, busily writing up the latest chapter in her book. The historian at Pontefract Castle in Leeds, who she had interviewed the previous week, had shared some new and fascinating insights about kitchen staff during the 16th century.

She was brimming with glee, writing a paragraph about a typical breakfast that a cook prepared for royalty compared what they actually ate themselves, when her mobile phone vibrated next to her. It was a number she didn’t recognise, but she’d been expecting a call from some colleagues at Cambridge, so she answered.

“Yes, hello, this is Lucy,” she answered rather formally.

“Yes, hi Lucy. It’s Sue. Sue Perkins,” the voice on the other end said, confidently.

“Oh... oh, hello,” Lucy faltered, her eyebrows frowning a little in surprise. How had Sue gotten her number?

“Have I... I’ve got you at a bad time, haven’t I?” Her voice was quite low, but but animated. “I can call back another time, if you’re in the middle of something,” she continued in her usual hurried manner.

“No, no, it’s fine, how can I help you?” Lucy queried in a businesslike tone, and then pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, a little annoyed at the interruption.

“You’re writing a book, you said?” Sue responded, skipping over her question.

“Oh, yes, it’s about the lives kitchen staff in castles across Europe. There’s always so much stuff about royalty, but I think the lives of ordinary people are far more interesting.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Give me a fact.” Sue demanded in earnest.

“A fact?” Lucy replied, confused.

“Yes, I’m sure someone as fastidious as you has been engaging with dozens of experts, and you’ve probably read every book on the topic, so your mind must be brimming noisily with scintillating facts. So—give me a fact!”

Lucy laughed a little, appreciating Sue’s enthusiastic use of adjectives—a surprising rarity these days. “Well—” Lucy bit her lip with genuine delight as she considered the request. Most people from outside the historical field glazed over when she got in to this level of detail about her work. Everyone was thrilled when there was a story of a historical beheading to be told, but the day to day details of normal life seemed to lack the the drama that many people sought from history. “Did you know there was a Frenchman named Antoine Parmentier who became an advocate of the nutritional value of potatoes after being held captive by the Prussians?”

“I did _not_ know that, and that was an oddly specific fact,” Sue chuckled bemusedly.

Lucy laughed and blushed, embarrassed that perhaps she’d gotten carried away. “Sorry. I get a bit... detailed about my work when I’m in the thick of research. I could probably bore you to death with stories about medieval bakers,” she smirked.

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Lucy Worsley. And actually—“ Sue paused briefly, “—there’s no one else I’d rather have regale me with stories of medieval bakers,” Sue said quietly and matter of factly, letting a silence hang between them.

Was Sue... no, surely not. Lucy had been too rude to her. Lucy hurried awkwardly to fill the silence and get the conversation back on track. “Well here I am carrying on about historical cookery, when you probably called for a reason.”

“I did, actually, yes,” Sue responded loftily, hardly missing a beat. “I called because I’ve come to be in possession of a certain peacoat of a charming teal hue.”

“Oh, you have? I was so convinced it’d been lost when Jaime said she couldn’t find it!” Lucy said, elated. “Oh you’re my saviour, Sue! It’s my absolute favourite,” she gushed, before she could contain herself.

“Well, I thought getting it cleaned for you was the least I could do, when I spilled tea all down your front.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you, thankyou,” Lucy smiled.

“Oh—and the dry cleaners said there was a piece of paper with a phone number in the pocket.” Sue said, sounding a bit cool and detached all of a sudden. “Did you need that? Andy, I think it was. Wasn’t that the chap from the canteen?”

Lucy’s eyes gaped at this revelation. And was that a tinge of jealousy she could hear? “Oh. Oh yes, I suppose I... yes I ought get it from you.” She mumbled, turning beet red, noticing that Sue’s tone had changed, and not really knowing what to do in the situation.

Sue read her the phone number and she wrote it down on a jotting pad on her desk. “Thanks for... that.” Lucy finished awkwardly. “Oh, I collected your duffel from the set, because I was rather convinced it would get lost in the fray of pack down last week,” she said, as she turned to glance at the coat folded neatly on the table behind her. “But Sue, I’m afraid I’m not in London any time soon to bring it to you. I’ve sequestered myself to my cottage in Leicestershire to make a solid start on my book. I could... have it couriered to you if you like?” she offered.

“Well, I’m in Manchester over the weekend for a gala thing. If you’re there Friday afternoon, I could bring it to you on the way through, and our coats can be reunited with their one true loves,” Sue declared dramatically, breaking the tension. Lucy appreciated Sue’s efforts to lighten the awkwardness that had momentarily descended, and was unable to stop herself from snickering at Sue’s ridiculous comment.

“A gala thing, what gala thing?” Lucy probed.

“Ah! No spoilers. I’ll tell you all about it on Friday. Does 1pm sound ok...?” Sue pushed, charmingly.

Lucy hadn’t really felt like much company lately. She was enjoying being selfish, shutting herself up in her cottage and writing, making tea, eating way too much shortbread and oaten biscuits with washed rind cheese, dressed in her comfiest liberty print pyjamas and snuggly woolskin ugg boots. It was her safe space, to escape the drama that had been escalating with Mark. He’d decided to disappear off to the Americas, to “find himself”. And in a weird twist of human emotion, the loneliness of being without the man day-to-day who had been her best friend for years made her want to shut everyone else out. It made no sense, but not a lot did these days.

“Come on,” Sue pressed, “I’ve a really delectable lapsang souchong tea that might entice you. We could truly blow the lid off British tea time,” she finished in a husky, mock-scandalous voice.

“Really?” Lucy replied, sounding skeptical. But her interest was piqued. Sue was a fellow tea enthusiast, this was a surprise. “I’ve yet to find a lapsang that does anything for me,” she retorted, coolly, a grin forming at the edge of her lips. She leaned back in the chair, absent-mindedly playing with the short hair at the nape of her neck. How was it she got lost so easily in conversation with this woman?

“Ah but it’s smokey, and earthy, and really, how will you _ever_ know for sure that you don’t like it if you don’t try it?” Sue tempted breathily into the phone. Her voice was deep and she was slowly and carefully articulating her words. She was... just talking about tea. How could this woman make a smokey Chinese tea sound... so...

Lucy realised her mouth was slightly agape, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth. This was unexpected. She was sure Sue Perkins was flirting with her.

Lucy closed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “Yes, ok. 1pm on Friday. I’ll message you my address.”

“Outstanding.” Sue sounded genuinely delighted. “Well... I should let you get back to your book then?” she mused.

They said goodbye, and Lucy placed her mobile phone down, pressed her fingertips against the desk and gazed out at the meadow framed by the sash windows in front of her.

“What just happened...?” she asked herself quietly. Her mind was swimming with confusion and her heart was thrumming a little in her chest.

She looked down and saw the jotter with Andy’s number on it, and flipped it over. She wasn’t sure what exactly had just transpired, or how she felt about it, but right now, she could only think of Sue Perkins.


	5. This image is enchantingly beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue visits Lucy's cottage in Leicestershire and Lucy has many feelings

_Recommended listening:[Opera Classics](https://open.spotify.com/user/dgdeccaclassics/playlist/2PjVPkj4a9kBvQIXaZ6UUt?si=YU7DQTUPQdmlS4uzc7aNUw) on Spotify_

At 1:18pm, there was a knock at the door.

Sue was running late again, but Lucy was already a complete mess about the whole afternoon, so it merely added to her already panicked state.

Thoughts whirred around her brain at breakneck speed: Was this a date? Was this a mere exchange of coats over an innocent cup of tea? What should she wear on such an occasion? Was she overdressed? Was Sue actually interested in her? And if so, was she actually interested in pursuing anything with Sue? How did all of this make her feel about the slow demise of things with Mark?

And to make matters worse, she been eyeing the jotter with Andy’s number on it suspiciously all week. She felt fairly confident that she could have called him at any moment for a casual dalliance, but for some reason, she kept hesitating. And whenever she thought of him, and the meaningless flings she’d had of late with similar people, her mind kept steering her firmly back to Sue’s piercing blue eyes. The way she’d looked at Lucy in that moment at Alnwick had begun to burn across her mind with regularity.

“Ugh! Lucy, you barely know this woman!” she’d scolded herself half a dozen times. But she couldn’t shake that moment, nor that look.

After many wardrobe changes, Lucy had finally decided on a boatneck dress with cute capped sleeves that was blue with tiny white flowers all over it. She matched this with a cozy lemon yellow cardigan and yellow ballet flats, and finished it with a tiny string of pearls.

She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, opened the door, and went slightly breathless.

Sue wore a pair of dark blue jeans, rolled at the cuff with chocolate brown desert boots peeking out the bottom, and a white tee shirt with a comfortable-looking black sweater. Over the top of this, she wore a midnight blue blazer that was buttoned in the middle. She looked so damned handsome that Lucy’s stomach started doing backflips.

“Hullo,” She grinned lopsidedly, a dimple forming on her right cheek as she squinted in the sunshine, her fringe falling over her eyes. She had one hand in her scruffy hair, casually mussing the back of it, and the other held the handles a large brown paper gift bag, and a white cardboard gift box.

“So can I... come in?” she asked, after Lucy had stood in the doorway staring at her for a few seconds too long.

“Of course, of course” Lucy said, scrunching up her face at her own awkwardness as she stepped aside.

“Well this is rather cosy,” Sue commented, regarding the cottage. “Have you been hiding out here all by yourself?”

“Well, not _hiding_ , exactly, but yes, it’s just me here,” Lucy replied, closing the front door.

The cottage was quite a way off the nearest road, and so, quite peaceful. The birds chirping in the garden outside made for a quiet backdrop to the opera playlist that Lucy had playing from a portable speaker on her desk.

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing here, can I stay forever? I think this is what the youth would call ‘idyllic AF’ on Twitter, or some other social media platform I’ve not heard of.” Sue’s boots made a dull click as she walked on the wooden floorboards, examining various objects that decorated the cottage.

Lucy fidgeted with her interlaced fingers as she watched Sue exploring her space. She didn’t know quite what to say now Sue was here and wandering about her home.

“Pendulum clocks. I don’t know how people live with them,” Sue commented, regarding the one against the wall with a pained expression.

“Oh I know,” Lucy agreed earnestly, walking over to stand in front of the clock next to Sue. She realised in that moment that Sue was quite a bit taller than her. “I adore the damned thing, it was my grandmother’s, actually, and it’s so beaten up, but it’s so beautiful,” she said wistfully. “But it drives me absolutely bananas when I’m writing. I stopped winding it because I just can’t stand the incessant—“

“—Ticking!” they’d both said it at the same time, and laughed. Lucy smiled up at Sue, who grinned her lopsided smile back at her.

They were only about a foot apart from one another, and all of a sudden, Lucy could smell it: the same citrusy, woody smell she recognised from the shoot, and in her car. But standing right next to Sue, the fragrance was much more intense. She pressed her lips together to stop herself commenting on it. She’d sound like a creepy stalker if she commented on Sue’s fragrance in the first three minutes of her being in her house.

“Oh is that my favourite peacoat you have there,” Lucy finally said, forcing her brain to change the topic as she gestured to the brown bag in Sue’s hand.

“Yes, and it comes with a rather spectacular box of shortbread.”

“Oh really,” Lucy smirked. “Is this what they give you at the dry cleaners now, instead of those sad mints in a bowl on the counter? That’s rather generous of them.”

“Actually, this is what they give you to say ‘I’m still terribly sorry that I caused you to spill tea down your front and can you ever forgive me for nearly causing second degree burns to your whole... chest region?’” Sue gesticulated wildly around her breasts with one hand, to really bring the witty remark home.

Lucy put a hand to her belly and laughed through her whole body. “I see! Well, let me have at them. According to ancient English custom, Profuse Apology Shortbread such as these are meant to be shared.” Sue handed the bag and the box to Lucy, and she placed them on the large old wooden dining table. She picked up the neat bundle of duffel coat and offered it to Sue with both hands and a little curtsey for dramatic effect.

“And in return, may I present a very smart—and might I also say, very _cozy_ —navy duffel. Though I do think it looks much better on you than it does on me.”

“Oh, a compliment! I’ll take that, especially considering how much I clearly pissed you off last week.” Sue made a cheeky face at her, knowing the effect this would have Lucy.

Sure enough, Lucy’s hands flew to her face in embarrassment. “Ugh, I was so unkind to you. I really woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day. I still feel bad about it.”

“Well, fix me a cup of tea and fetch me a shortbread, and we’ll call it even.” Sue had raised her eyebrows and was making a mock-stern face at Lucy.

“Done,” Lucy laughed, and backed into the small kitchen with the box of shortbread, finding a small packet of lapsang souchong tea inside. Sue sat herself down at the counter on a wooden stool, and ran her fingers idly through her messy hair. She sat quietly, watching Lucy as she boiled the kettle, and produced two ornately decorated and well-loved teacups and set them down on the counter.

“I’m starting without you,” Lucy grinned at Sue, as she helped herself to a shortbread round. Sue bit her lip as she watched Lucy take a small bite.

“Oh my god, these are really good!” Lucy exclaimed, going back for more.

“Well, one does one’s best,” Sue said, looking pleased with herself, flourishing her hand.

“You made these?” Lucy’s eyes goggled in amazement. She had eaten a lot of Scottish shortbread and was seriously impressed at the quality.

“Well, you can’t work with Mary Berry for seven years without learning how to make a Croydon Show blue ribbon-winning box of shortbreads,” Sue jibed.

“Ah—of course! Your time on Bakeoff. So is that why you’re so taken my overly-detailed descriptions of historic cookery, then?” Lucy teased.

Lucy finished making the tea, and they moved to the couch in front of the fireplace, sitting down at either end. They chatted for about an hour on various topics like they’d been chatting like this their whole lives: opera (“Carmen’s my favourite,” said one), the pastry obsession of Henry VIII (“He had an army of his own pastry cooks,” said the other), and of course the tea Sue had brought.

“So what’s the verdict on the tea?” Sue asked.

“Well... it’s rather better than most of the other lapsangs I’ve tried, but... I just don’t think the smokiness does it for me,” Lucy resigned.

“No, me neither,” Sue agreed, nodding and smirking.

“Hold on,” Lucy prodded, catching on, “I thought this lapsang was delicious as far as you were concerned!”

“Well, I had to come up with something to pique your interest so you’d meet with me,” Sue defended, grinning. “After the steely glare you gave me when you were filming. And I was giving you my best smoulder, too.” Sue propped her head up on her hand on the back of the couch, trying to look casual about the comment she’d just thrown out. One of her eyebrows quirked up, and her eyes narrowed, burning into Lucy’s.

Well, this answered one thing for sure: Sue was definitely flirting with her. Her stomach made an involuntary leap, but Lucy tried not to show her reaction outwardly.

“I wasn’t giving you a steely glare,” Lucy pouted, somewhat taken aback that Sue had interpreted her look that way, but trying simultaneously to redirect Sue’s comment.

“Oh you so were, Lucy Worsley,” Sue carried on in a cheeky tone, a mischievous grin playing across her face. “And I’d always heard you were such a pleasure to work with, too,” Sue continued the charade, pretending to take offence. “But in all seriousness—why _were_ you in such a mood? Is everything ok?”

Sue had shifted the tone of the conversation so quickly that Lucy was taken aback, and so she blurted out a response—the honest response—before she had time to censor herself.

“Mark and I... we’ve been distant for a long while now. We’re not... broken, exactly, but we’re on an... extended break.” Lucy sighed, and looked at the empty fireplace.

“Yeah... I figured that might be the case,” Sue responded, slowly. “A... a close friend of mine... _made friends_ with Mark recently.” Sue had been trying to be delicate, but she’d slightly emphasised the words ‘made friends’ in a way that Lucy knew could only have one meaning.

Despite how much Lucy had been telling herself that she was fine, her heart broke all over again. She knew things were quite possibly over with her and Mark, but hearing that the truth had finally creeped out beyond her safe little bubble made it feel all the more real. Her stomach, which a moment ago had been leaping with delight over Sue’s interest in her had now twisted into tight knots.

Lucy pressed her eyes tightly shut. “I’m so sorry, it must sound as if my life is a total mess. It sure feels like total mess right now,” Lucy mumbled sadly, opening her eyes and casting them to the meadow outside so she wouldn’t have to look at Sue.

“Not at all,” Sue said quietly, her brow furrowing in concern. She reached out to put her hand on Lucy’s, which was splayed on the cushion of the couch, and Lucy could tell there was nothing in her actions in that moment other than compassion. Sue swept her thumb soothingly across the top of Lucy’s skin.

Lucy looked down at their hands, eyelids fluttering slightly. Sue’s hand on hers felt warm and soft, and was larger and less dainty than Lucy’s. Lucy looked slowly back up to Sue’s face, and Sue stared right back at her, waiting for her to say something.

“It’s not the fact that he’s leaving to find himself that’s got me so upset,” Lucy tried to explain. “It’s that, I miss my best friend. It’s so, so weird waking up without him every day. I never thought I’d be that person who would miss something as boring as that.” Lucy laughed at herself, then her face became serious again, and Sue gave her a bracing smile.

“But sometimes the boring things are the most wonderful. They make you feel the most at ease, and so, can be the hardest to let go of,” Sue said matter-of-factly. They sat quietly for a moment looking at each other, and then Sue patted Lucy’s hand, and suggested, “More tea needed, don’t you agree?”

Lucy moved to stand, but Sue ushered her to remain seated. “I’ve got this. Earl grey, right?” and Lucy nodded, as Sue grabbed the teacups. She actually loved the way Sue had made herself right at home, and taken control things. She normally hated people invading her at the cottage, but Sue had this kind of composure about her that she hadn’t expected, and that she really needed right now.

While Sue made tea, Lucy was grateful to have a moment to gather her thoughts. As she let her mind relax into the music of “Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön” from The Magic Flute, she considered how easy it was to talk with Sue about these things. She’d spoken to her family about things with Mark, but they were all very English about it. She loved them, and they were supportive, but not especially helpful. Her sister, at some point, had even said something to the effect of, “Keep calm and carry on,” when she had tried to discuss it.

The way Sue had simply acknowledged her feelings was reassuring to her; it made her feel normal, and for once, calm.

Sue returned a few minutes later with tea—no milk—and more shortbread.

Lucy was well ready for a change of topic. “So—what’s this gala thing you’re going to tonight?”

“Oh, it’s up in Manchester. I’m emcee-ing an art fundraiser for a university up there. I expect there’ll be lots of old white men in their professorial best. There’s probably been a run at Sainsbury’s on tweed jackets with elbow patches!”

Lucy laughed heartily with Sue.

“Look, this is probably a really forward question,” Sue continued, “But I’ve actually got a plus one for the event tonight. I thought... you might want to come? You could put on one of your many gorgeous frocks—“ Lucy blushed at this, and bit her lip, “—and strap on a pair of cute Mary Jane heels, kick back with a few drinks and some... let’s be honest, some B+ conversation at best, I wouldn’t want to over-promise,” Sue finished with some self-deprecating humour, raising her eyebrows and flashing a charming grin.

Oh how Lucy would love to go and watch this woman charm a room of people all night, and flirt with her some more. She’d probably be wearing some gorgeously tailored suit, no doubt. And maybe they’d even...

No, no, Lucy told herself firmly. She was getting way too ahead of herself. It wasn’t the right time. What if she saw colleagues there, and they asked questions. She wouldn’t have the energy to deal with that. She was just barely holding things together. She was emotionally spent, and she knew it.

“That’s such a lovely offer, Sue. I just—I don’t think I’m in the mood for company this evening.” Sue looked disappointed at this. “I really am sorry, Sue,” Lucy sighed, and looked down at her hands.

“No, no, it’s seriously fine. I just thought I’d ask because, well—I rather enjoy your company, and I’d like to see more of you.” She pressed her lips together and looked intensely at Lucy through her thick glasses, her mouth curling into just a hint of a smile at one corner.

Lucy didn’t know quite what to say as those blue eyes bore into hers. She was unquestionably attracted to Sue, more so now that Sue had turned out to be this exceedingly charming and sweet woman who had brought her tea whilst she lamented on her failing relationship. But her head was too clouded with what was happening with Mark to process any more feelings beyond that. Her brain felt foggy and tired. She was exhausted.

“I enjoy your company very much also,” she said, keeping her cards close to her chest for now. “For now, though, I think I might need a rest, if that’s ok.”

“Of course.” Sue replied. She looked a little deflated, and Lucy’s heart ached in her chest. “I’ll leave you to your earl grey and shortbread,” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

They said their farewells, exchanging a hug that was longer than a collegiate hug probably should have been. Sue invited Lucy for coffee whenever she next came to London. Lucy promised she would stay in touch, and as she watched the handsome woman drive away, she hoped, for both their sakes, that she would keep her promise.


	6. Late night text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue interrupts Lucy's bedtime reading with a late night text message

_Listen to:[Breathe Me by Sia](https://open.spotify.com/track/7jqzZyJJLrpkRFYGpkqSK6?si=KLffbv6vTrCmfghqIj7Xqw)_

Later that evening, Lucy was coocooned in her bed amongst a cosy pile of blankets and pillows, digesting a book on Italian kitchens during the middle ages, a mug of herbal tea in her hand.

She was still feeling exhausted as she processed what had transpired that day, and she was coming to terms with the many ways in which her world was changing around her. But for now, she was letting her brain rest from parsing all the emotional turmoil by indulging in a bit of light history.

History made sense to her, even when she was exploring gaps in historical knowledge. It felt simple to her, and it satiated her unceasing curiosity. It felt like the one constant thing she could always come back to.

The night was quiet and cool. She could hear crickets chirruping outside the window, where stars hung amongst a cloudy sky. Then her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and she turned to see a notification from Sue. She set down her tea, grabbed her phone, and unlocked it.

There was a picture message that Sue had sent—a selfie of her in a navy blue suit, and a red-collared shirt patterned with tiny white birds buttoned all the way to the top. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her eyelids were blackened with a heavy eyeliner that made her eyes look sultry.

Lucy’s mouth fell open just a little, and her breath became heavy. As she devoured the image, another two messages appeared.

 

Lucy locked her phone and flung herself back on the bed. She blinked up at the ceiling in a daze. This woman was too much. Or just enough.

She didn’t know if she was ready to take things further right now, but she knew for sure that she wouldn’t be dreaming of anyone other than Sue Perkins tonight, as her hand snaked lower between the sheets.


	7. The waiting game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue is pining for Lucy pretty damned hard.

_Recommended listening:[Half Mile Harvest](https://open.spotify.com/album/5xWJW8AgothAfkOSrWylMw?si=hOZaLb2BQ8qLmgd4afFc5A) by The Teskey Brothers_

It had been months since Sue had seen Lucy in Leicestershire, and she was giving up hope.

She’d felt bold sending those messages to Lucy that same evening after they’d talked. She’d thought they had connected that day in a way that was more significant than just friendship.

She’d done everything that day to make her intentions clear to Lucy, in the hope that it would entice her into _something_ more. She’d slathered on her rakish charm, and her best arrogant smoulder.

But Lucy was so damned hard to read, and it had seemed like she was holding back.

All of this made sense, of course. She knew that Lucy was dealing with the demise of her relationship. Hell, she knew what it felt like, having gone through the same thing only ten months earlier with Anna. She knew that same feeling of wretchedness, when the person who understood you most pulled away, leaving a painfully gaping chasm in your heart.

Sue had experienced all the usual dating misadventures in the intervening months. And she’d met many drop-dead gorgeous women who were more than willing to jump into bed with her, or to try and start some semblance of a relationship.

But people always wanted to engage with Sue the comedian or Sue the documentary presenter, without giving much back in return. When she was with most women, she felt like she was always _on_ , always performing, and never able to indulge the deeper parts of her intellectual passions. Or if she was able to, they were never reciprocated or challenged in a meaningful way. What was it with British lesbians, for christ’s sake?! They only seemed to want to scratch the surface, and she was bored with it. She was too old and tired for such superficial interactions.

When Sue agreed to do the Alnwick Castle gig, Lucy’s reputation as a historian and a presenter had preceded her, and Sue had jumped at the chance, from a professional perspective. Sue had never worked with Lucy directly before, but many of Sue’s friends had talked about how intelligent she was, and what a pleasure it was to produce television with her.

But when she’d seen Lucy for the first time on set all those weeks ago, Sue had become completely and utterly smitten. Lucy was breathtaking: poised, articulate, passionate, and perhaps even a little giddy when discussing the history of Alnwick. And obviously she was gorgeous as hell, to top it all off.

Her blonde bob of hair was impossibly neat, especially when she tucked it behind her ear from time to time. She had this serious look when she was speaking with the director, trying to get the moron to agree to what was obviously the most logical and interesting way of presenting the facts. And her eyes sparkled when she finished a take she was pleased with.

And her voice. That voice. It made Sue’s heart thud just thinking about it. It was low and smooth and rich and velvety. Sue could get so very used to hearing that voice in her ear from a compromising position.

Watching Lucy from the wings, Sue had been transfixed, and her stomach felt like it had bottomed out with desire, a warmth spreading through her as she came to realise how much she wanted to get to know Lucy better. Everyone had been trying to chat with Sue on set, crack jokes with her, the usual stuff. But Sue only had eyes for Lucy that day.

Which is why it had made her feel all the more wretched when she’d finally caught Lucy’s eye that Lucy had seemed to stare straight through her in... contempt? Displeasure? She couldn’t quite figure it out. And then she’d had to leave the set before she could reconnect with her.

So as awful as Sue had definitely felt about spilling tea on Lucy, she was secretly thankful that at least she’d talked to her once that day—even if it was in the least promising first impression she’d ever made—and that she’d had the opportunity to swoop in and save her from the cold with her duffel.

And dry-cleaning the peacoat was surely the least she could do, wasn’t it? Though... in retrospect, she probably should’ve shared with Lucy that she had the coat, so Lucy didn’t freak out about losing it. Oops.

But now, months had passed since that first day they spoke, and Sue couldn’t stop reliving the few interactions she’d had with Lucy over and over in her head. The day on the set, the phone call, and the cottage. If she stopped to think about it too long, she felt pathetic—falling so hard for someone she’d spoken with only a handful of times.

And then there were the text messages. When she’d sent the messages to Lucy late that night after the gala, having had a few gin and tonics, she knew she might be pushing the boundaries of where they’d left things.

But she’d _had_ to try.

She’d caught Lucy reading the messages that night, and even played off that in a way that she thought was just the right balance of confidence and cheek. Lucy hadn’t responded that night though, and her heart sank when she still hadn’t responded by lunchtime the next day.

Not one to be easily defeated, however, Sue had persisted over the subsequent weeks. She’d tried for a dinner date when she was travelling up to Scotland for some work, but Lucy had said she was in France doing another documentary.

Sue had invited her to a garden party in London, hoping to coax her down for a day or even a weekend, but Lucy said she was in the thick of writing, and couldn’t spare the time.

She’d even sent a postcard to Lucy from her trip to Thailand. To Sue’s delight, this had earned her a selfie from Lucy sitting in her garden with her notebook on her lap. She was wearing sunglasses and a big straw sunhat on her head, and was holding up Sue’s postcard coyly to the camera.

And just a few days ago, Sue had messaged her, asking if she’d be in London any time soon.

 

Well, it was finally Saturday. It was 5:07pm. And there was still no word from Lucy.

Sue sighed. Maybe it was finally time to call it quits. She would get her hopes up, only to have them dashed when Lucy didn’t return her advances.

Sue was getting ready to leave for the event she was scheduled to attend that night. She stood in front of the mirror, tying her red bow tie that refused to sit flat the way she wanted it to. She’d undone it to start all over again, and it hung around her neck against the upturned collar of her white oxford cotton shirt.

Her phone buzzed on her bedside table. She snatched it up, fumbling, but it wasn’t Lucy. Sue replied hastily to the text message and returned to her bow tie, finally getting it to sit well enough that she was happy. She turned her collar down, pulled on her suit jacket, and looked herself up and down. She looked good, she thought.

But her stomach was in knots.

Shit. She was in deep.

She sighed, and shook herself bodily, trying to wrench herself out of her flat mood.

“It’s out of your control, Sue,” she said, steeling herself. She straightened up, and stared into her own eyes in the mirror for a moment, before adjusting her bow tie one final time, and strutting confidently out the front door of her apartment.


	8. Disconnected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy finally makes it to London, but she can't get ahold of Sue.

_Recommended listening:[Unravel](https://open.spotify.com/track/7l3AN8XtVIdfc0yxmoQ1Xg?si=rW2ncBbgQfebCN24u0Wepw) by Bjork_

Lucy sat in the back of the private car that had been arranged to take her from her hotel.

After much thought, she’d finally decided in the last few weeks that she was ready to move on from things with Mark. His six weeks in the Americas had turned into an indefinite hiatus, and she’d made peace with the fact there was no resurrecting their relationship, and that, in fact, that she no longer wanted to. Things had changed irreparably between them. She still loved him, she always would, but he was no longer her partner in crime, or dinner parties, or morning sleep-ins.

And after resisting the urge to fall into something with Sue Perkins for months, she’d decided to finally give in and see where things might take her.

And then having decided that, of course, and having finally let Sue finally convince her to come to London, she’d left her phone sitting on her desk at home on the day she promised she’d be in touch. Spectacular.

There was no way for her to contact Sue, and there was no time to figure out a plan B. In between driving down from Leicestershire that day, having her hair and nails done at her favourite salon, Hershesons, and getting ready for the function she was due to attend that evening, there hadn’t been a minute to spare.

Her visits to Hershesons were typically an incredibly relaxing and indulgent experience, but today, she only felt the creeping swell of anxiety at the fact that she might have finally sabotaged her chances with Sue.

Maybe this was the last straw for Sue. Maybe Lucy had pushed her away one too many times, and Sue, who had been so patient and persistent with her, would be done with her nonsense. Sue had been less frequent with her communications recently, hadn’t she? If Lucy was honest with herself, and the roles were reversed, she couldn’t say that she would have been quite so accommodating.

And Lucy was feeling especially dreadful because she’d promised Sue she’d message her today, and now it was 5:58pm, and Lucy had no way whatsoever to get in touch.

She stared out the window of the car at nothing in particular, despondent. She drummed her finger on the leather upholstery.

“Everything ok, ma’am?” the driver asked, apparently sensing her poor mood.

“Yes, fine, thankyou,” Lucy replied tensely.

“You look incredible ma’am. I’m sure that dress will be a hit at the awards. We’re not far now, ma’am.”

Lucy nodded and stared out the window again, biting the inside of her lip. She did look amazing, at least. She had on her favourite dress—‘the magical red one’, she had called it, when she’d last worn it to a ball with Mark. It was a simple, elegant sleeveless a-line with a plunging v-neck. Well, plunging by Lucy’s standards. Modestly plunging, was that a thing? But most delightfully, it had these magical pockets that were just enough to fit a credit card and a lipstick without making the dress look weird on her.

Tonight, she wore a matching red lipstick that burst boldly off her pale skin, and around her neck, an extravagant diamond necklace that had belonged to her grandmother. Her shoes were an elegant pair of red satin backless loafers with a pointed toe. She’d be damned if she was going to wear high heels tonight.

The car drove on to the BAFTA awards ceremony. Perhaps Sue would be there. There was a chance. Perhaps they would see each other across the room, and Sue wouldn’t be angry at her, and there would be sultry glances, and it might lead to... something...

Now all she’d have to do is get through the initial circus that was the BAFTAs. The car had pulled up the front of at Royal Albert Hall, and she could see the paparazzi lined up on either side of the walkway. She loathed the ridiculous red carpet affair at these things. She really wasn’t in the mood to be judged just now.

She steeled herself as her driver came around to open the car door for her. _You’re fine Lucy, for heavens’ sake, just go and enjoy yourself for the first time in forever_ , she thought, smirking to herself.

The door opened, and she stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet, where cameras flashed in front of her eyes.


	9. Who I’d been waiting for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue and Lucy find each other over drinks at the awards.

_Recommended listening:[The ArchAndroid](https://open.spotify.com/album/7MvSB0JTdtl1pSwZcgvYQX?si=v9Jh_jSFR56wdV32QgavZQ) by Janelle Monae_

Lucy hadn’t caught a glimpse of Sue all night. Perhaps she wasn’t there after all. It was thoroughly disappointing.

She’d endured the inane questions of the paparazzi—“Going solo tonight, Lucy?” someone had asked, much to her inward annoyance. She’d smiled and feigned that she couldn’t hear over the din.

The awards themselves were interesting enough. She noticed how many more awards were going to diverse casts, directors, and plots. “About bloody time,” she’d commented to a friend who’d noticed the same.

The whole affair carried on after the awards with cocktails and champagne in and around the hall. She saw many people she knew, and even managed a quick conversation with Jawed, much to her delight. He commiserated with her over how things had eventuated with Mark, but she assured him it was very much for the best. But Jawed had had to move on to greet about a million other people, being the social butterfly that he was.

Lucy was finishing a conversation with some friends about the holiday they’d just taken down in Italy. As she waved them off, she turned, sipping from the champagne glass in her hand.

Then, walking towards her with the usual confident swagger, as if moving in slow motion, as if she’d totally expected to run into Lucy at this moment, was Sue Perkins.

Lucy’s heart leapt high in her chest, her heart hammering as Sue’s eyes burned into hers. She touched her hand unconsciously to the collar of her dress, her mouth dropping open slightly and her breathing turning shallow.

Sue was wearing a navy blue sateen suit, a red bow tie, and a pair of tan brogues shoes. Her glasses where thicker and squarer today, making her blue eyes pop even more profoundly than usual, with the assistance of the smoky eye makeup she wore. Her hair was messily arranged, which contrasted with her otherwise clean-cut look. She looked completely gorgeous, and Lucy felt instantly and undeniably wet in response to seeing her. Lucy gulped.

“Well this is a very pleasant surprise,” Sue purred at Lucy, flashing her most charming smile. It was crowded, and so Sue was standing only about a foot away from her. Lucy could smell the citrus and wood smell that followed Sue around. She bit her lip as Sue spoke. “So this is the ‘thing’ you got invited to?” Sue continued.

“Yes, and I’m surprised you’re even talking to me,” Lucy started, apologetically. “My phone is sitting helpfully back on my desk in Leicestershire. I’m so sorry I haven’t messaged you. But Sue, I’m very glad to have run into you tonight. I was hoping you might be here.” She took another sip of champagne and stared Sue straight in the eyes.

Sue’s brows raised on hearing this. She stared right back at Lucy, and smirked deliciously. Sue held a short glass of clear liquid—gin, Lucy thought she smelled—and ice, and raised it to her lips to take a long slow sip.

“Well I’m glad you caught me. I was just about to leave to go to a party.”

“Oh really?” Lucy asked, disappointed.

“Yes, really. And I think,” Sue paused, placing the flat of her palm to her chest in a dramatic display of earnestness, “that you ought come with me.”

“Oh, do you?” Lucy looked back at Sue, her mouth slightly spreading wide into a grin, her lips just slightly apart.

“Well, I think it’s the least you can do when you didn’t even bother to call me,” Sue teased back loftily. “And besides, these official BAFTA parties are duller than a Croydon school dance. Everyone knows that it’s the gays that throw the best after-parties,” Sue’s eyes sparkled scandalously, quirking her brows again.


	10. Somewhere else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After drinks at a bar, Sue walks Lucy to her hotel in the wee hours of the morning, and they share a steamy moment under the street lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some making out! Woot.

_Recommended Listening:[Dirty Computer](https://open.spotify.com/album/2PjlaxlMunGOUvcRzlTbtE?si=mkhW5tasQGi5MK1ZRigTZA) by Janelle Monae_

A friend of a friend of Sue’s had rented the rooftop of a bar somewhere down an unassuming street, not too far from where the awards were held.

It was a balmy night in London but there was a cool breeze up on the rooftop. You could see Hyde Park in the distance where the skyline allowed it.

She recognised a few people at the bar. Jaime and Jawed were both there, drinking tequila shots with a big group of people. Jawed saw Lucy as she arrived, and coaxed them in to joining for a round of shots. Lucy noticed Jaime giving Sue a suspicious smirk when they both joined the group together, and Sue giving a playful ‘I have no idea what you’re suggesting’ sort of shrug in return.

The bar was noisy with reverie and music. Lucy didn’t normally drink tequila, but Jawed had pressed a shot glass into her hand, telling her to live dangerously, and she was in the mood for taking chances for a change. She was starting to feel like her old self again, after months and months of emotional turmoil. She felt electric.

After the tequila, Sue suggested she grab them drinks. Lucy asked for a whiskey, neat, and she stayed with the group listening to a story Jawed was telling everyone about a highly flammable tutu, but she was only half-present. She kept flashing her eyes over to watch Sue ordering drinks from the bar. Gosh Sue looked _so_ damned good in that suit. Lucy felt a little weak at the knees, both simultaneously uncertain and thrilled for what the night might bring. With great difficulty, She managed to tear her eyes away so that Sue didn’t catch her watching.

“Let’s go outside and sit somewhere quieter, Sue suggested, speaking directly into her ear when she returned, and Lucy nodded in agreement. She’d relished the feel of Sue so close to her and could feel her hot breath on her skin.

The open rooftop area was decorated with strings of lights that criss-crossed overhead like electric bunting.

They found a vacant cluster of big comfortable chairs scattered around a table against the balcony overlooking the city, and sat down facing each other on an outdoor lounge. They were just far enough apart that there was space between their knees, as they crossed their legs towards one another. Lucy was extraordinarily conscious of the space between them. She felt miles from Sue all of a sudden, and after all this time without seeing her, she longed to feel closer.

They talked about everything and nothing. The awards ceremony, and the people at the bar. The various things they’d each been doing in the intervening months for work. They followed the silly tangents they took along the way. Quite a few people stopped by to to say hi, and catch up on things, but invariably moved on to say hello to other people at the party.

Finally, somewhere past 3am, they were alone, and the bar was starting to thin out.

Sue draped her arm over the back of the lounge, a fresh gin in hand, and looked at Lucy contently. “So we’re finally together again,” she said simply. “You know, I was starting to think that you were blowing me off in the least fun way possible,” she smirked.

“It’s been... a difficult few months,” Lucy responded, smoothing the hem of her dress over her knees, and taking a sip from her glass of whiskey. “And you _were_ right, all those months ago back a the cottage. For a while there, I just sort of hid myself away and threw everything into my book. I wasn’t capable of anything, with anyone. It’s what I needed to do for the world to start to feel ok again.” she said quietly, slowly, deliberately.

“And now?” Sue asked, pressing her for more.

“And now... well, I’m here, aren’t I?” She looked up into Sue’s eyes, and smiled, her eyelids fluttering just a little. Sue’s eyes locked with hers. Lucy noticed how heavy the air seemed to hang between them. Her breathing was shallow. “Sue, I wanted to say... thankyou,” Lucy said earnestly, piercing Sue’s eyes with her own. Sue tilted her head to the side, as if asking what she was being thanked for. “For... well, not giving up on me while I sorted my shit out,” Lucy finished, chuckling softly.

“Such profanity, Lucy Worsley,” Sue jested, snickering, and Lucy rolled her eyes. “Obviously, it’s fine,” Sue continued. “I’ve been there. It’s pretty fucking horrible really, isn’t it. I’m just... I’m very glad to see you again. And here I thought that perhaps...” Sue’s voice trailed off, and she lowered her gaze to the space between herself and Lucy. Sue’s cheeks were flushed. Lucy held her breath. Perhaps what?

“Last drinks,” someone called from near the main bar.

Sue startled slightly, and cocked her head to the side. “Of course. And things were just getting interesting.” She looked at Lucy, her eyes narrowing as she grimaced.

“Well... perhaps you could walk me to my hotel?” Lucy asked, hopefully, not wanting her time with Sue to end just yet. Sue raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh god, no, I didn’t mean... oh my gosh,” Lucy looked up at the sky, blushing. Sue smirked at her, not saying anything, and really letting her suffer in the unintended meaning of her words. “I just meant—I would love to walk with you for a bit. If you don’t mind, of course.” She mashed her hand to her brow in embarrassment.

“I would love to walk you home, Lucy,” Sue replied smugly, and she flashed a cheeky grin at Lucy once more. Sue took a final swig of her gin, and set her glass down on the glass tabletop. “Shall we?”

As Lucy stood up, she realised she was a little more tipsy than she thought. She placed her glass on the table, took a deep breath and followed Sue down the stairs and out of the bar.

As Lucy walked out onto the alley behind Sue, she missed her footing on the curb, flailing to find her balance. But Sue’s hand was there immediately and Lucy instinctively grabbed it to steady herself.

“I don’t usually like to mix drinks for precisely this reason,” Lucy rolled her eyes and smiled, straightening up, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.

“It’s fine, really,” Sue implored. She went to pull her hand away from Lucy’s now that she had steadied herself, but Lucy stopped her, lacing their fingers together, and tugging Sue’s hand towards hers. Lucy’s eyes burned straight into Sue’s as she did so.

Sue bit her lip, and exhaled, nodding slightly. “Well, ok then,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, and her mouth curling into a satisfied smile. “Lead the way.”

Lucy remembered the warmth and strength of Sue’s hand from when she’d comforted her at the cottage. She had the softest skin, and she stroked Lucy’s thumb with her own as they walked slowly together. Every touch of Sue’s thumb felt magical and new.

They walked along in silence, simply enjoying finally being alone in one another’s company, and drinking in the stillness of the warm evening. After a few minutes, Lucy squeezed Sue’s hand tightly in hers, and Sue cast a terribly dreamy sidelong glance at her. Lucy’s eyelids fluttered. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest that she was sure Sue would hear it.

The streets weren’t especially busy, but there were people walking here and there.

“This way,” Sue suggested, steering them. She led Lucy down a quiet street that was lined with trees strung with fairy lights. As they walked down the block Lucy noticed a massive blue and green mural of a figure that was half woman, half raven, painted on the side of a building. She tugged at Sue’s hand so she would stop and admire it with her.

Sue watched Lucy gazing up at the mural on the wall contentedly, and after a moment, she spoke quietly in a low voice. “You know, I don’t think I’ve told you yet how beautiful you look in that dress.”

“You think so?” Lucy replied softly, turning her head. Sue nodded slowly. “I rather thought so too,” Lucy responded, and she flashed Sue a coy grin.

Lucy turned towards Sue, dropping her hand. She stepped closer, so that they were now only inches apart. Their eyes met, and Lucy reached up with both hands and ran them lightly down the underside of the lapels of Sue’s coat. She could smell it intensely now, that same delicious smell that she could always smell when she was close to Sue.

Her face was warm with desire. “That smell of yours. What is it? It’s been following me around since we first met.” Her voice was quiet and husky.

“Trade secret,” Sue said, swallowing, a little breathless. “Couldn’t possibly tell you.” Sue’s voice was low in a way that electrified Lucy, and her eyes were fixed on Lucy’s with desire.

“And you look...” Lucy stared Sue up and down, appreciating her once more and biting her lip. “Well, you look completely ravishing, really. You’re so fucking handsome,” she said quietly. Her head was swimming, her whole body flushed with intense heat for Sue. Sue’s cheeks were flushed.

She grasped Sue’s lapels lightly, her eyes were burning into Sue’s with want, her lips slightly parted. They were inching closer and closer towards one another. Lucy tugged Sue by the lapels, and finally, their lips met.

Sue’s lips were so soft that Lucy could hardly believe it. They kissed gently at first, savouring the sweetness of tasting one another’s mouths for the first time. Sue’s hand went up to cup the side of Lucy’s face, and Lucy couldn’t believe how indescribable it felt to finally be kissed by her, and touched by her.

Lucy’s tongue flicked lightly against Sue’s lips, and Sue groaned into her mouth.

“Lucy,” Sue purred softly into her mouth, and with one hand, she pulled Lucy flush against her body, and the other moved to Lucy’s neck, fingers sliding up into her hair. She gently pulled her head back, her mouth moving to the space below Lucy’s ear to press soft, slow kisses there, her teeth grazing against her skin now and then.

Lucy moaned, enjoying the sensation for a moment, her smile spread wide in satisfaction, before pressing Sue back forcefully against the wall with both hands. She stared straight at her. They were both breathing heavily. For a few seconds, Lucy felt as if time had stopped.

They finally crashed together at the same time, tongues entwining as they kissed deeply, ravenously. One of Lucy’s hands tangled in to Sue’s hair, to pull her closer into their kiss. Sue’s hands moved to the small of Lucy’s back, pressing their hips firmly together.

Lucy could feel a the heat and wetness building between her thighs. Her hands moved inside Sue’s jacket so she could scrape her fingernails gently at Sue’s sides, eliciting another groan from Sue.

Sue pushed Lucy back slightly at this point, her mouth open with want, eyes boring into her. Lucy’s hands came to rest on Sue’s hips once more, her fingernails teasing Sue’s skin lightly through her shirt.

“Holy fuck...” Sue uttered softly into the night. She was practically panting, and a little incoherent. “You’re so completely... I can’t even...”

Lucy flashed back a mischievous and lustful look, and bit her lip. She loved the way Sue was devouring her kisses, how breathless she was, how completely unravelled she’d become. Up until now, Sue had seemed so composed, so steady—and it made her even wetter to see how much of a mess Sue was becoming. Sue made her feel so desired. It was intoxicating.

She snaked both her hands up around Sue’s neck, pulling her down to kiss her again.

Sue’s hands moved to Lucy’s sides, the flat of her palms pressing against them, creeping closer and closer towards her breasts. Lucy’s whole body was on fire, and she was aching for Sue to touch her.

“Shit,” Lucy uttered suddenly, wresting Sue’s hands from her body, and pressing her lips together as if in pain. She intertwined their fingers.

“Is everything ok? Did I... did I hurt you?” Sue looked confused. It was dreadfully sweet.

“No, no, Sue you’re wonderful, so wonderful,” Lucy implored breathlessly, reaching up to touch Sue’s chin lightly with her fingertips. “I’m actually a hair’s breadth away from dragging you back to my hotel room and fucking you for however many hours there are left in this evening.” She bit her lip once more and Sue gulped, staring hotly at her, her pale cheeks flushing deeply, unable to hide her desire.

“But...” Sue offered, suspecting Lucy’s hesitation.

“But...” Lucy looked at Sue forlornly. “...I can’t. This is wonderful. Kissing you is...” she inhaled deeply. “Oh, kissing you is transformative. But this is a lot for me. I don’t... I can't...” she faltered. "I can't sleep with you. Not tonight."

Sue nodded, a little forlornly.

“And if I don’t stop kissing you right now, I’m not going to be able to control myself for much longer,” Lucy continued. 

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything to upset you,” Sue asked, seriously.

“No Sue. In fact, everything you’ve done is beyond perfect,” Lucy reassured her, shivering slightly at the intensity of what she’d felt under Sue’s touch.

Sue nodded. She looked ok, but a bit deflated. Lucy slid her hands against Sue’s sides once more, pulling her close and feeling her warmth, and she kissed Sue softly. Their eyes fell closed as they succumbed to the kiss, feeling each other’s lips once more.

Then Lucy gently pulled away. It felt physically painful for her to stop herself from doing what she really wanted to do; what her body was begging her to do. But knew she couldn’t. Not yet. Not tonight. It was a lot, and she didn’t want to do or say anything she couldn’t undo.

She entwined her fingers with Sue’s once more, and tugged her away from the wall, walking with her in silence towards the hotel.

Within a few minutes, they’d arrived. They stood under an archway, in the shadows, just near the entrance.

“So, look,” Sue started, smiling coyly at Lucy. “I’m totally fine with not being in that hotel room with you tonight—well, maybe ‘ _totally fine_ ’ is the wrong phrase, but hopefully you get my meaning,” she grinned, unapologetically. “But... I’d really like to see you again. Soon. If that’s ok with you.” She looked at Lucy earnestly.

“Well, I’m not driving back to the cottage till tomorrow afternoon, and I kept the day free in case we... found each other,” Lucy said sweetly, pressing her hands into Sue’s. “Do you think you could take me out for breakfast?”

“Oh yes,” Sue responded nodding seriously. “Lucy Worsley, I’m going to take you out for breakfast so hard, you won’t even remember all the other breakfasts that came before.”

Lucy laughed, her lips spread wide. “How about 11 o’clock, then? I fear I’ll need a sleep-in after tonight. I’m not good without my beauty rest.”

“I highly doubt that. In fact, I think I’d rather enjoy seeing you all dishevelled first thing in the morning,” Sue replied, her voice husky once more. She pressed her forehead briefly against Lucy’s and Lucy blushed.

“Goodnight, Sue Perkins,” Lucy said quietly, and she pulled Sue towards her to kiss her once more, nipping lightly at her lower lip and earning a groan from her before pulling away.

Lucy looked over her shoulder at Sue as she walked towards the hotel, and gave Sue a cute little wave.

“Yeah I’ll just... be going... this way, now,” Sue uttered after Lucy, gesturing up the street behind her, a bit unravelled.


	11. Worse for wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy's hungover, and coming to terms with her feelings for Sue.

Lucy woke up, face smooshed into the pillow. She could feel a spot of drool cooling the underside of her cheek. She could see the sunlight through her eyelids.

She pressed her eyelids even more tightly closed, trying to shut out the morning. A dull thud ached in the back of her head. She was definitely hung over. That bloody tequila.

She wiped the corner of her mouth, and with her face still smooshed against the pillow, she opened her eyes just a tiny bit. It was an unusually bright and sunny day. The hotel room felt pleasantly warm. She was naked and the sheets felt luxuriating on her skin.

She flailed her hand about on the nightstand for her watch, finally catching it up, and squinting her eyes through the brightness to see the time. It was 8:42. Damn it. She was hopeless at sleep-ins.

A yawn caught hold of her, and she stretched her arms up behind her head on the pillow as she blinked her eyes.

“Water. I need water,” she urged herself.

With all the energy she could muster, she forced herself out of bed and poured a glass of water from a bottle in the mini bar. She pressed the back of her hand against her head and took a long, greedy drink.

Dragging herself back into the bed, she set down the glass and bottle on the nightstand, and wriggled underneath the sheet that was dappled with sunlight streaming in through the window.

She closed her eyes again, suddenly becoming aware of a subtle but pleasant smell. Sue’s fragrance had followed her home.

She inhaled deeply, and let her head sink into the pillow. Her mind was suddenly and pleasantly flooded with memories of the night before.

_How damned sexy Sue looked in that suit._

_The feel of Sue’s teeth grazing against her neck._

_That look on Sue’s face when she dragged her fingernails along her sides._

_How gorgeous and at a loss Sue had looked when she’d said goodbye..._  

Her mouth spread into a broad smile, and she bit her lip, her stomach lurching in a satisfying way. She was so tired, but she felt oddly relaxed, and completely elated.

And she was so very wet. She could feel it without even having to touch herself. Her clit ached just thinking of Sue. Her eyes rolled back in her head slightly as she imagined Sue’s fingers dragging slowly down her abdomen.

Had she had a moment of utter stupidity by not falling into bed with Sue last night? She longed so much to feel Sue’s body against her own, to let loose the intensity they’d each hinted at the night before.

But now, in the morning with the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, a seriousness washed over her.

As she lay there, she suddenly thought of Mark. It wasn’t that she missed him; it was nothing like that.

She was thinking about the hurt he’d sowed when he’d walked away. The hole that had been left in her life. To think that someone she’d trusted for so long could cause so much pain, and a pain that had been so hard to bear for such a long time.

Suddenly, her head was spinning with anxious thoughts. She thought she’d dealt with those feelings, but lying there in bed, despite all the want and lust and desire, and how easy Sue was to talk to, and how sweet she had been last night, and how gorgeous she looked—Lucy knew that she couldn’t be certain. Not yet.

Because really, last night was only the second occasion that she’d spent any real time with Sue. She just didn’t know her that well, she reminded herself.

A few months ago, a casual fling with no strings attached had been all she’d needed for intimacy. In those situations, the idea of being hurt was the last thing on her mind. She’d been detached, in control, holding her lovers at arm’s length. Able to walk away without batting an eyelid.

But she didn’t feel like that now. This felt... different.

Her heart was thudding and aching, but in a way that was quite different to feelings of lust. It was like... _what... was it like?_ she asked herself, running her hand in frustration through her blonde hair.

And then it became clear. She blinked the smallest tear out of the corner of her eye as her mind pieced it together.

It was like she’d felt when she’d first met Mark, all those years ago. That wretched, sickening, delightful want that sits deep in your belly and doesn’t let go.

Shit.

She was developing real feelings for Sue. And if she slept with her—if she let herself connect with her as deeply as she sensed she wanted to—she knew she’d be a total mess all over again if Sue decided she didn’t want her in the same way. She couldn’t handle that. Not now she’d just pulled herself back together again.

No, she decided. She wasn’t going to let her body take her where her heart and her mind weren’t ready to go.

She gave herself a curt little nod as her head lay on the pillow and she stared anxious and unblinking at the ceiling. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, and she had to inhale deeply to slow down her breathing. Her jaw was tensed as she lay there, annoyed with herself, and her multitudinous feelings.

“Damn it, Lucy, why can’t you just relax and go with things for once?” she grumbled out loud, her temples pulsing.

She went to the bathroom to get some paracetamol from her toiletries kit in the bathroom, and grabbed her iPad from her overnight bag. She sat on the edge of the bed to take the painkillers with some water, and connected her iPad to the hotel wifi.

The iPad buzzed a few times, message notifications appearing from a handful of people. There were a few from her agent, a couple from family, some from Jawed, and lastly, one from Sue.

She swallowed hard, feeling the uncertainty in her mind locked in a raging battle with the longing in her heart. She opened the message.


	12. Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue feels Lucy pulling away, and is freaking herself out about it.

Sue had waited until what she’d deemed a reasonable hour to send a text—or reasonable considering they’d both rolled into bed at well past 4:00 in the morning.

She had no idea if Lucy would even get her messages. They’d both forgotten her phone was on a desk in Leicestershire when they’d parted ways.

Sue prodded at her bottom lip with her fingers, a serious look on her face. She’d been wide awake since 8:12am. Normally she slept like the dead, but she’d gone to bed such a total mess from her evening with Lucy. She’d had sexually charged dreams of her throughout the night, and had woke up more aroused than she could remember being in a very long while, her cunt absolutely soaking.

She’d tried to touch herself to relieve the tension, thinking it might make her feel less strung-out, but she was too anxious.

Lucy seemed to be holding back from her, and she was fretting, running all sorts of crazy hypotheticals in her mind. It wasn’t about the sex. Sex was nice and all—probably very nice, if Lucy was involved, she felt certain—but it was the emotional witholding she sensed that bothered her.

Maybe she wasn’t clever enough for someone as brilliant and witty and talented and beautiful as Lucy.

Perhaps Lucy wasn’t ready to jump into something new, after all.

What if she’d realised that Sue wasn’t ‘her type’? Maybe, Lucy had drunk just enough to find Sue attractive, and then... They’d shared this _indescribable_  moment—was it five minutes, or was it an hour?—of passion, and then Lucy had come to her senses.

Despite her outward confidence, Sue’s past experiences fed her many insecurities as thoughts played over and over in her head.

She had gone to the kitchen to fix tea twice that morning, and both times had forgotten where she’d put the cup. She’d lost her spectacles once, too, and then found them conveniently located... on her head. She paced around her apartment, as her mind played out all the possible scenarios.

Lucy would cancel breakfast. Or Lucy just wouldn’t respond to her text. Or Lucy would come for breakfast, and leave and then Sue wouldn’t see her again for... ages? Forever?

“Fuck, Sue. Pull yourself together. I mean, it’s probably fine, right?” she reassured herself, staring into her own reflection.

She breathed out a gust of air, hands on her hips, as she cast another long glance at her phone that was sitting on her dresser.

It was now 9:08. Maybe Lucy was still aslee—

Bzzzt bzzzzt!

She grabbed for her phone, fumbled it awkwardly, dropped it, picked it up again, and held it in her slightly trembling hands as she stared at Lucy’s name on the screen.

“You’re a complete and utter mess, Sue Perkins,” she muttered in disbelief, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and shaking her head at herself.

She unlocked her phone, heart thudding madly.

Ugh. What did Lucy feel dreadful about?

Maybe she was trying to get out of breakfast?

 _OR MAYBE SHE’S JUST HUNG OVER, SUE. HMMM?_ She willed the rational voice in her mind to win out.

Her brows knitted together as she stared expectantly at her phone, but she couldn’t see Lucy typing anything.

What should she say? Ugh.

Swagger, Sue. Swagger. She ran her fingers through her scruffy black hair.

She tapped out a reply she thought equal parts charming and practical.

She waited a minute for Lucy to reply, staring at her screen again and drumming her fingers on her leg absent-mindedly as she did so.

Sue grimaced. There was none of Lucy’s usual warmth. Maybe... it _was_  just the hangover? She agonised at the messages as she scrunched up her forehead.

Right, action stations, Sue. We’re going to find you the most artfully casual, sexy AF outfit, and remind that very hungover woman just how much she wants you.


	13. Shakshukua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet for brunch, and Lucy is struggling to keep on top of her feelings for Sue, whilst trying to figure out if Sue feels the same way as her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phwoarrrr what a chapter. This one was rough-going. Finally managed to get the right narrative balance (I think!), but it took a while! It's a massive chapter, but hopefully you enjoy the character development that's unfolding. 
> 
> Anyway, such tension, many feels.

_Recommended listening:[Calm Vibes](https://open.spotify.com/user/spotify/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX1s9knjP51Oa?si=RB5MNabWTPO0jurL33I7nw) on Spotify_

Finding a car park took forever in London. How had she forgotten this? And she hadn’t lived in the city in such a long time that she had no sense of where the good spots were in a given area.

Lucy checked her outfit in the reflection of the car window. She plucked off a bit of pink tree blossom that had fallen onto her crisp white blouse, and smoothed her navy and green plaid skirt neatly. She pushed her dark sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose, tidied her hair behind her right ear, and tucked her black patent clutch underneath her arm. She looked cute as hell, but she felt wretchedly out of sorts. She was unsure how much of it was the hangover and how much was attributable to her nervousness at seeing Sue now that she’d arrived at her resolution about their... relationship? Friendship? Someone needed to come up with a more precise word to describe the neither-here-nor-there-ness in which they now found themselves.

As she walked from her car, she glanced irritably at her watch. Her head was aching even worse than earlier, and she was running 11 minutes late, which irked her to no end.

Then, as she rounded the corner and saw the café, it hit her: they had kissed last night—so what would Sue’s expectations be when they saw one another? Were they supposed to kiss when they said hello? What did one do with a person they were simultaneously completely infatuated by, but were trying to remain somewhat aloof with?

She _wanted_ to kiss Sue: just the thought of it made her heart stutter, and brought a flush to her pale cheeks. But she just wasn’t sure she was ready to kiss her so publicly, so soon. The London paparazzi were notoriously intrusive, and she didn’t want to add the complication of tabloid gossip to her current mood.

She arrived at the restaurant before she could resolve her spiralling thoughts, and when they asked to seat her, she said she was meeting someone. She cast her eyes around the room, but failed to find Sue.

“Is there an upstairs, or a...?” she asked the server who had greeted her.

“There’s a courtyard out the back,” he smiled, and pointed towards a door at the rear of the restaurant.

She made her way through the blue wooden door, and found a sunny courtyard with greenery in every available space that wasn’t occupied by a table or chair. Hanging pots lush with succulents were strung from every available overhang, and contrasted delightfully with the old brown brick walls.

Lucy surveyed the courtyard, and her heart did a little flip when she saw Sue sitting at a table, facing away from her. She looked resplendent in the sunshine, dressed in a dark blue chambray button-down, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a pair of chocolate trousers. Tan boots, only half-laced with thick patterned laces, adorned her feet, which were stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankle. She was staring through black wayfarers at her phone, scrolling idly, her other hand buried deep in her tousled black hair. She looked effortlessly sexy and tomboyish, and Lucy swooned as she took her in.

As Lucy approached the table, Sue looked up from her phone, and stood to greet her, her feet getting caught up around the chair legs. Lucy noticed her cheeks flush. Was Sue blushing?

“Hi,” Sue said, a beaming smile spreading across her face, and her head tilting to one side.

“Hullo,” Lucy said, a little flustered. “I’m terribly sorry for my lateness.”

Sue leaned towards her, and Lucy panicked for a tiny moment. But Sue only grabbed Lucy’s free hand with hers as she leaned in to press a kiss to Lucy’s cheek, and she noticed Sue’s fragrance again immediately. It took her right back to the previous night, under the fairy lights, when Sue had sputtered incoherantly as they’d made out, the memory making her stomach lurch pleasantly.

“You look completely and unsurprisingly radiant,” Sue said, matter-of-factly, peering over the top of her sunglasses at Lucy’s outfit. She gestured for Lucy to sit down.

“Thankyou,” Lucy replied, feeling her cheeks redden as she tried not to smile too obviously. “I like your shirt, actually. It looks rather smart on you.”

A waitperson appeared with menus, and asked to take their drink orders.

“A ristretto, please,” Lucy requested.

“Going for the hard stuff, eh?” she remarked, at Lucy’s order, then turned to the waitperson. “I’ll have an orange juice. Do you have any ice for that?”

The server nodded and said they’d be back to take their food order shortly.

Sue leaned back in her chair comfortably, and watched Lucy as she took in the space around them.

“I’ve never been here before. It’s beautiful. You wouldn’t even know this was here from the street outside,” Lucy marvelled, peering up at the battered brick walls that encased the courtyard on all sides.

“Yeah, this whole area was industrial. Everything round here is all fancy apartments and fashion boutiques that sell horribly overpriced tee shirts now. This building next to us—“ Sue gestured with her hand, “—used to be a printing press up until the mid-90s, and this café used to be the greasy spoon where all the workers got their cornish pasties and chip butties. But now... it’s all been...”

“...gentrified. Mmm,” Lucy sighed. She stared thoughtfully at Sue. “How’d you come to know the history of it?”

“Well, I’ve lived round the area for over a decade now. I get kind of... nostalgic, I guess, thinking about what London used to be like. I didn’t give a shit when I was younger, of course. But a few years ago, I befriended the sweetest old lady at the library about three minutes’ walk from here. She’s one of those old dears with about a thousand stories. I used to pop in and read there from time to time, and we’d get to chatting on the quieter afternoons.”

Lucy laughed. “My sister bought me an iPad last year, and I love it... but there’s nothing like the smell of the book stacks, is there?” Sue grinned at Lucy, and Lucy laughed at herself. “Gosh I sound like such a bookworm, don’t I?”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, actually, though for marginally _less_ respectable reasons.” Lucy’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, as Sue smirked mischievously. “Well, it’s that I’ve had some of my best romantic encounters in the stacks, don’t you know.” Sue’s cheeks had gone a bit pink, but she was looking thoroughly pleased with herself nonetheless. Lucy chuckled quietly, her shoulders shaking as Sue continued. “It’s where all the smartest and sexiest women hung out at Cambridge. And what can I say,” Sue uttered wistfully, staring dramatically off into the distance for comedic effect, “That musty smell of moulding medical journals mingled with rising damp... well, it harbours a lot of fond memories for me.” Sue had turned back to Lucy by this point, and was snickering, pleased with herself. Lucy laughed audibly in return.

“So, enough about my sordid youth in the Cambridge bibliotheque,” Sue continued, attempting to compose herself. “What of your literary adventures? Are you reading anything new at the moment, or are you still deep in the trenches of Italian cookery circa the sixteenth century, or whatever it was?”

“Ahhh, you’ve a good memory,” Lucy nodded, impressed.

Just then, the waiter appeared with their drinks, and took their breakfast order: shakshuka for Lucy, and an egg and spinach pita for Sue.

“So. Books. Yes.” Lucy continued. “Whilst Italian kitchens _were_ fascinating, I’ve finished those and moved on back to England. I’m deep in the throes of the Tudors.”

“Ah, the Tudors. My specialty! Go on, quiz me!” Sue exclaimed, rubbing her hands together and leaning forward. Lucy looked confused, her head tilting to one side. “When I did Bakeoff—“ Sue continued, “We did all these baking history segments all over Europe, and I rather enjoyed the Tudors. Despite being a right pratt, I think old Hank enjoyed a bit of nosh nearly as much as I do, so it made for great culinary adventures. So, let’s have at it, then. We’ll call it University Challenge, the Brunch edition.” Sue put her elbows on her knees and propped up her chin on her knuckles like an eager school kid, staring expectantly at Lucy, grinning.

Lucy laughed. “Alright then. What’s some good tudor trivia..?” she thought out loud, her thumb and forefinger playing at her chin. Then, after a few seconds—“Ok, yes. Right. This isn’t technically Tudor history, but as it was so popular with royalty of the time, it may as well have been, so: what was the original English name for ‘marzipan’?”

“Hah! Easy!” Sue declared, delighted. “Marchpane.”

“Ah, very good, 10 points,” Lucy responded, looking impressed.

“Come on, Lucy, give me a challenge,” Sue insisted.

“Are you getting smug about Tudor-era baking history, Sue?” Lucy laughed, though she was really enjoying this, Sue’s smugness included.

“Always,” Sue retorted coolly.

“Alright then,” Lucy continued, thinking for a few seconds, “How about... Ok. Approximately how many staff were employed in Henry VIII’s kitchens at Hampton Court Palace?”

“Hmm... It was... something like... one hund... no! Two hundred cooks, wasn’t it? I mean, who doesn’t need two hundred cooks, really?” She looked at Lucy, less certain than with her previous answer.

“It _was_ two hundred—“

“Yessssss!” hissed Sue, pumping her fist in glee.

“— _However_ ,” Lucy continued, “They weren’t all cooks. It’s a common misconception.” Lucy continued in the academic tone of voice that she usually reserved for the set of a documentary. “In addition to the cooks, there were sergeants, grooms and pages who worked to collectively produce about eight hundred meals each day for Henry VIII’s household.”

“Excessive bastard,” Sue scoffed and rolled her eyes in mock-disapproval. “Go on then, give me a proper hard one. How the hell else will I impress you? It’s certainly not with my witty repartee.” She looked at Lucy eagerly once more.

Lucy smirked. “Ok. What was the name of the sweet that Henry VIII loved so much that he locked the recipe away and declared it fit for consumption by royals only?”

“Hm. I know this. It’s... somewhere in the back of my brain, hidden amongst sapphic literature and cat memes,” Lucy’s eyebrows raised, as Sue’s brows furrowed. Sue made a clicking sound with her mouth as she searched for the answer. “It was... something about... women wasn’t it? He was bloody obsessed with women, wasn’t he,” she made a disapproving face, buying for time. Lucy looked smug herself now, a broad smile spreading across her cheeks.

“Wife cake..? No, that’s the thing I ate in Hong Kong...” Sue was muttering aloud, and chewing her lip. “Shit. I know this!” Sue shrugged, a frustrated look on her face, and as a last resort she offered—“Mother-in-laws-tongue? No, that’s a bloody house plant, Susan. Uh. Think... patriarchy. Patriarchy pudding?” she finished weakly, shrugging apologetically.

“Did you just say ‘patriarchy pudding’?” Lucy snorted in true delight. She was in fits now.

“Well, one’s got to go down fighting, doesn’t one?” Sue asserted, laughing along with Lucy.

Lucy composed herself, and put on her best and loftiest impersonation of Jeremy Paxman from University Challenge. “The correct answer is Maids-of-Honour tart.”

“Hah! I knew it. Obsessed with women,” Sue said, as though it was perfectly obvious, and she laughed again.

Their breakfast arrived, and Lucy was absolutely starving by this point. She tuckered in to her shakshuka with an enthusiasm that surprised even her, and Sue took a bite out of her pita, before regaling Lucy further with a list of her least favourite royals—all of whom were men— and her rather entertaining grievances against them. Lucy chimed in with a few enthusiastic hurrahs, and was especially vociferous when it came to Edward VIII, who had sympathised with Hitler during the second world war.

When she had inhaled enough of her breakfast to sate her hunger, Lucy sat back in the sunshine and took another sip of her ristretto, listening to Sue, feeling relaxed and enjoying her company.

Sue was full of surprises. Lucy loved that she was curious, and well read, and so passionate about things that were important to her. Sue hated people who were cruel or unkind or unprincipled, and Sue was uncompromising in her disdain for people who took advantage of others.

Sue looked up and noticed Lucy staring at her intently through her sunglasses.

“Shit. I’m rambling about royals aren’t I?” She asked Lucy.

“A little, actually, yes,” Lucy chuckled back at her.

“I get... a bit carried away, sometimes. I just love a good rant, I’m sorry I—“

“Stop. Don’t apologise. It’s really... It’s terrific. You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”

They sat there in silence for a few seconds and stared at each other through their sunglasses. Sue propped her elbow on the table, and leaned her cheek against her hand. Her other hand ruffled through her messy black hair. Sue looked so cute she could hardly stand it.

Lucy felt good in that quiet moment. She felt like her worries and anxieties had lifted, just for a minute. Her mind wandered back to their kisses, and she became acutely aware of her own breathing. It sounded noisy, and she wondered if Sue could hear it too. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her blood pulsing loudly in her temples.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to know how Sue felt about her. She wanted to know what Sue wanted from her. Just ask her, Lucy. Just—

Sue opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it and close it again.

“What? You were about to say—,” Lucy asked.

“It’s just... I—“

Then suddenly the waitperson appeared. “Can I take these for you?” They gestured towards their plates.

Sue and Lucy both nodded awkwardly, surprised by the intrusion.

“Yeah, yes. Thanks,” Sue said awkwardly, sounding flustered, and she swallowed noticeably.

Lucy’s brow furrowed a bit as the waitperson left, looking at Sue again, whose cheeks were ruddy now. Damn it, she looked so handsome in the sunshine.

“I’m glad you had time for breakfast,” Sue finally said.

“Yes, me too. I’m sorry I’m not great company today, though. I really ought to have held back on the tequila.”

“No, you’re perfect company, really. Last night was—“ Sue paused, seeming to steel herself. Lucy was breathless for a moment, wondering what she was going to say. “Well, it was a... a big night, wasn’t it?” she finished quietly, and she fidgeted with the napkin in front of her, and stole a brief look at Lucy, waiting to see how she would reply.

The air hung between them again. Was Sue recalling the same memories as her: fingers running through one another's hair?; hands gripped against bodies?; teeth playing against skin?

“Yes. It was... unexpected.” Lucy finally managed.

 _Unexpected, Lucy? What the hell does that mean?_  she chided herself. _Years of theses and essays and the best you can manage is ‘unexpected’?_  Sue was going to think she was a total idiot. Like some kind of inarticulate schoolgirl, incapable of expressing her feelings.

“I mean, I really enjoyed spending time with you,” Lucy added a bit awkwardly.

“Yeah, me too,” Sue agreed, looking at her seriously. “You’re... different, Lucy Worsley.” Sue smiled at her contentedly, and fell silent.

What did _that_  mean? Was that a compliment?

And then, at the worst possible time ever, the waitperson returned to ask if they wanted more coffees.

After that, Lucy wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, and so returned to her safe space: books.

“So while I’ve been digesting Tudor kitchens, what have you been reading?”

“I’m re-reading a lot of Sarah Waters at the moment, actually,” Sue responded.

Lucy cocked her head to the side, trying to recall the name. “Sarah Waters. She’s the one that had all her books made into mini-series by the BBC, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, but, Lucy,” Sue looked a bit dumbfounded. “Am I to infer from this that you haven’t actually _read_  any Sarah Waters?”

“Should I have?” Lucy asked sincerely.

“A British female novelist who writes historical fiction about queer relationships?” Sue’s eyes narrowed in jest at Lucy.

“Well, when you put it like that...” Lucy laughed.

“I mean, it’s not just that it’s queer. It’s actually beautifully written. And her writing unpacks lots of interesting stuff like poverty, war, healthy relationships, and there’s even some light bondage thrown in there for good measure!” They both laughed. “But her writing normalises the fact that queerness existed in this time that many Britons like to think of as strictly heteronormative. It’s pretty groundbreaking stuff, really,” Sue finished emphatically.

“I guess I know what’s moving to the top of my reading list then,” Lucy smirked.

They ordered more drinks and chatted a while longer.

With her second coffee and the easy flow of the conversation between them, the knot of anxiety that had sat in Lucy’s stomach all that day began to unfurl. She laughed more times than she felt she had in the whole year prior. It felt great, to feel things flow this easily. It had been a long time since she’d felt this connected to someone so quickly.

Sue had a way of meandering between self-deprecating humour and impassioned opinion on a curious range of topics. It turned out she was vegetarian off-camera, which had led to a plethora of inconveniently-timed panic attacks whilst documenting local customs on a number of documentaries. She’d been to see The Magic Flute nine times in six different cities, and was disappointed that Lucy had only managed a measly two performances—“It’s one of the most unbridled expressions of joy, and who doesn’t need more joy?”, Sue had extolled. And she’d once stolen Stephen Fry’s blazer at a cocktail party, and promptly spilled red wine on it. “Spilling things is one of my top three talents, as I’m sure you’re aware, and it’s also a rather expensive one,” she’d quipped, at the end of this rather humourous tale.

Lucy felt genuinely disappointed when she glanced at her watch, and knew she’d have to leave for the drive back to the cottage in Leicestershire, so she’d arrive home at a reasonable hour.

“I probably sound like a total grandma—and it’s probably not far from the truth, honestly—but I completely loathe long drives,” Lucy explained. “It’s the only catch about living in my idyllic cottage in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive wretchedly far to get to and from.”

“But it’s so thoroughly worth it,” Sue said, a little dreamily. “I always wanted a cottage in the middle of nowhere, but couldn’t quite rationalise it because I have to be in the city so often.”

Lucy insisted on paying for breakfast—“For getting me home safely last night,”—and Sue insisted on walking Lucy to her car in the sunshine.

When they arrived at the car, Lucy turned to face Sue, her clutch held between both hands.

Sue scrunched up her face and pressed her lips together. “So... d’you think you’ll be back in London again soon?”, Sue asked.

“I’ve got a few research trips coming up, and a lot of writing to do, so I haven’t got any trips to London planned just now. My schedule’s a bit of a pain, really.” She was probably coming across as cagey, but it was the truth: work was very busy for her at the moment.

“Well, should I call you if I’m headed up north?”

“Yes. Yes, please do, I’d really like that,” she replied, answering much faster than she meant to, staring up over the top of her sunglasses at Sue, who was staring right back at her. She was chewing the inside of her lip, and her heart was hammering madly again.

She forgot to breathe for just a moment, as she tried to pluck up the courage to do what every fibre in her body was telling her to do. She wanted to grab the woman in front of her and kiss her; to feel the heat of their bodies pressed together. To push aside her anxieties and act based on her desire, rather than on a cautiously analysed decision.

_Just do something, Lucy. Just—_

But in that moment, as Lucy stood there breathless, trying to summon the courage to reach out to Sue, Sue cast a glance up and down the street which had gone quiet, before returning her steady gaze to Lucy.

And then Sue was leaning towards her, her hands moving to Lucy’s hips, and pulling them gently into one another's orbit.

The kiss was so soft at first, their lips just barely meeting, and Lucy felt as though they were suspended in time. A satisfying ache thrummed deep in her chest, and she could feel her heavy, ragged breath passing over her lips as they paused, inches from one another. She wanted this woman so badly. She longed for her; she needed her.

Sue pushed her wayfarers back on her head into her ruffled hair. “I can’t see your eyes,” she uttered quietly, staring into Lucy’s sunglasses.

Lucy’s lips quirked into a smile that was halfway between anticipation and trepidation, mouth slightly open, her breath still faltering. She pulled her glasses off, blinking deliberately as the bright sun hit her eyes.

“I could get lost in them, I think,” Sue said, even more softly, and Lucy’s heart lurched so much that she actually had to remind herself to breathe.

And then they were kissing again, but now their lips were pressed together in earnest, and their tongues began to tease beyond one another's lips. Sue’s hands were at her back, pulling Lucy towards her warm body. Lucy reached up to cross her hands behind Sue’s neck, her sunglasses gripped in one hand, and her clutch in the other. They paused briefly again, mouths parted, and panting slightly. Lucy could feel herself tipping over the edge as Sue’s eyes bore into hers with want.

Their lips met again, but this time with an intensity and desperation that Lucy hadn’t remembered feeling in... she couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d wanted someone this way. Their tongues entwined as their hands pulled one another closer. She felt like she was floating. She could feel neither heat, nor cold, just the firm pressure of Sue’s body gripped against hers.

And Lucy loved the taste of Sue’s mouth: a muskiness that she remembered from the night before, mingled with the taste of the coffee they had drunk earlier. Her desire had burst forth, chaotic and untamed. She wanted to feel every inch of Sue’s body, and her head swam as they kissed for what might have been minutes, but felt like hours.

And then unexpectedly, Lucy was aware of a quiet clicking sound. She was confused by the noise at first, and then her stomach dropped into a pit of horror.

She turned to see a balding, dumpy man stood about thirty metres from them, the lens of his camera pointed in their direction, angling for a shot.

Sue had realised too, her face turning abruptly cold and stern, as she turned towards him, her hands dropping away from Lucy’s body. “For fuck’s sake, won’t you just leave people alone?” she roared up the street towards him.

Lucy was so mortified to be photographed in such an intimate and unrestrained moment that she shrank away from Sue.

“Hey, Lucy, it’s ok,” Sue spoke gently, turning back towards her and seeing Lucy’s distress. She reached out to touch her arm. “Please. It’s ok. It’s—“

“Anything to comment, Sue? Does Anna know you’re with another woman now?” the man hollered at them, a sleazy and salacious tone to his words.

“Piss off right now or I’ll—“ Sue shook a finger aggressively at him, her voice dark. "For fuck's sake," she muttered, shaking her head angrily. 

“I’ve got to go, I’m going,” Lucy blurted out, confused and overwhelmed, fumbling hurriedly for her keys in her clutch as she turned towards the car and opened the door.

“Lucy, please, don’t leave,” Sue implored softly, sounding hurt.

Lucy paused, her hand grasped tensely on the interior handle of the open door. She was avoiding looking at Sue, staring off vacantly, trying to process the situation.

Why was she running away? Sue hadn’t done anything wrong. She shouldn’t leave, not like this.

But panic was seeping through her, and her stomach was churning unpleasantly. She wasn’t ready for this. Paparazzi. She fucking hated paparazzi. She hated having her privacy invaded. She hated feeling violated. She hated being out of control.

“I can’t—I just—I can’t Sue. I have to go,” she said curtly, quietly, ashamed to hear the words coming out of her mouth. Sue stared back at her helplessly, silently, looking completely heartbroken, her mouth agape in confusion.

Wordlessly, Sue’s arms dropped to her sides and she stepped back from the car, so Lucy could close the door.

Lucy put her sunglasses on and stared straight ahead, her hands braced on the steering wheel. Her heart was racing, but now in a more menacing way than it had been just minutes ago. Her jaw was tensed. She ought not to have let her guard down. What had she been thinking?

She huffed in frustration, started the car, and drove off, watching Sue shrinking behind her in the rearview mirror.


	14. We never seem to love the people we ought to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy has had a bad week processing her reaction to the post-brunch paparazzi incident, so Jawed intervenes.

Lucy stared at the screen of her phone, paralysed with a relentless anxiety that had dogged her all week.

She’d spent the remainder of Sunday and all of Monday an emotional mess, terrified that photos would appear in her email, or in her phone messages, or that someone would recognise her in them and call to talk about what was going on and what had happened with Mark, and ask invasive questions about her life. None of this had happened as of yet, but she had been sure it was coming.

On Tuesday, she’d had to fly to Czech Republic to meet a colleague in Prague at Charles University for an interview for her book. She hadn’t really felt on her game, and was convinced she’d embarrassed herself in the interview, appearing unprepared and unprofessional, even though the Professor had emailed her the following day to give effusive praise for the chapters of her draft that she’d shared for him to fact-check.

After the interview at the University, she’d spent time wandering around the Old Town in Prague. The first time she’d come here was in her twenties, on her honeymoon with Mark. She bought a black coffee and treaded the cobblestone laneways for hours getting completely lost in memories long forgotten, and some newly made. It had felt strangely comforting to feel anonymous and disoriented in a town she didn’t know very well, and she had supposed it was a way of escaping the confused thoughts that had plagued her since Sunday.

She’d worked busily in Prague until the following Monday, returning to the University to undertake further edits with the Professor, and arrived home well past dinner time on Monday evening. She’d fallen straight into bed, and slept restlessly.

When she’d awoken Tuesday morning, she’d found the most recent message from Sue on her phone:

> _“Ok. I’m going to leave you be, for now. Hopefully our paths will cross again.”_

She was sat on the edge of her bed in the cottage, staring blankly at her phone.

She hadn’t known quite what to say to Sue since they’d parted. She felt terrible for deciding to run away when the photographer had appeared out of nowhere. She’d wanted to message back or call, but she didn’t really know what to say, because she still wasn’t sure how she felt or what to do. And now Sue was done with her. 

And while she sat there, staring vacantly at her phone, it started buzzing in her hand. It was Jawed. She pressed the “Send to voicemail” option, but thirty seconds later, a message popped up on her phone.

The phone buzzed once more with Jawed’s name on the screen, and so, she picked up. Even in her sullen mood, she couldn’t ignore him if it really was an emergency.

“Is everything ok, Jawed?” she answered.

“Well, everything will be bloody ok when you come to your front door and let me in. I’ve been knocking for five minutes, and I’m freezing my tits off out here!”

Lucy did a double take, her mouth dropping open in confusion. “What? You’re... you’re here? But...”

“Luce. Door. Now,” Jawed interrupted.

“Oh. Um. Ok. I’m—I’m coming now. Just a moment.” She hung up the call. She was too shocked to do anything other than obey. What was Jawed doing here?

She felt suddenly cold, and hurried to pull her navy and white robe on over her pyjamas, and to slip on a pair of grey cotton slippers. She checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was a total mess, but she tried to press it flat at the back, and quickly comb the sides with her fingers. It made her sad to see that she looked absolutely exhausted. She frowned, and went to meet Jawed at the front door, a sour look on her face.

“Oh thank god,” Jawed exclaimed, forcing himself over the threshold the moment Lucy opened the cottage door. “It got so cold damn overnight. Did you know it’s snowing outside?”

“What..?” Lucy replied, shocked, and peering out the front door as Jawed stomped his shoes on the mat. It was indeed snowing, much earlier in the year than it ought to have been.

Jawed had wasted no time making himself right at home. “I’ll fix a fire, you put on the tea,” he bellowed in his deep, resonant voice as he walked into the lounge.

She walked into the kitchen, still confused by what was going on. “Jawed,” she bellowed out slowly and unsurely, “Why exactly are you here?”

“God you are dense, Luce. If you’re going to make a habit of snogging one of Britain’s most beloved lesbians, you’d better know one thing: us gays love to gossip.”

“Oh, Jawed, I’m really—I’m not in the mood for gossip,” she pleaded.

“No, woman, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not here for gossip, I’m here for you. Everyone who was at that party last week knows it was you in that photo in _Hello!_  with Sue Perkins, but no one would ever say so.”

“What?” Lucy was so confused.

“In this week’s issue. You didn’t know about it? The photo of you snogging Sue by your car.” So the photo _had_  been published after all. But why hadn’t she heard anything about it yet? She looked completely harried. “Don’t worry,” he continued quickly, sensing her anxiety peaking. His eyebrows raised and his tone was completely unfazed, as though everything was going to be fine. “S’like a code of honour thing us gays have. It’s no one’s job to out anyone else. Well... unless you count Sue's rotten ex-girlfriend from like a decade ago or whatever, and that utter prat from the BBC.”

Lucy shook her head dismissively. “Jawed, I’ve been with women before Sue Perkins. That doesn’t mean I want my photo in the paper. You know how much I hate being set upon by photographers.”

Jawed’s head popped around the corner to peer into the kitchen. “You been with other women before? Huh. Didn’t know that,” He said to himself, sounding completely surprised.

“Of course I have,” she said, now sounding utterly frustrated.

“Ok, brilliant! So, what’s the problem then? You been in the paper before dozens of times with Mark, and I never seen you react this way,” he said cheerfully, as he walked back towards the fireplace.

It was one of the things she loved and hated about Jawed: he was great at peppering her with questions, and she was usually terrible at defending herself from the onslaught. But his heart was always in the right place. “I still don’t understand, Jawed. What do you mean, ‘What’s the problem?’ What problem are you talking about?” she retorted huffily, still confused about what he was asking her.

“Girl, you are oblivious! It isn’t about _you_  all the time, you know,” he said, yelling over his shoulder in a tone that made it clear he thought she was completely daft, as he continued bustling about the hearth. “Jaime called. She’s been on the phone to Sue, hasn’t she? She’s a mess, apparently, Sue I mean. Doesn’t want to pressure you, but she’s completely bloody heartbroken, innit?”

“Heavens, you weren’t kidding about the gossip, were you, Jawed?” Lucy moaned darkly, bracing her hands on the bench top, and casting a long look out the window to her left. She felt the panic rising in earnest again.

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that. We haven’t talked to anyone else about it. It’s just me and Jaime that know the full deal, but Luce—“ he paused. He’d finished making the fire, and walked back into the kitchen, where he folded his arms and stared straight at her, a pitying look in his eyes. “Luce, you haven’t been yourself since Mark.”

She blinked at him in annoyance, shaking her head in ire. She tried to start talking, but Jawed raised a hand to indicate she should let him finish.

“No, Luce, you need to hear me out. We been friends for 14 years now, and I know you. You’ve been stomping around like a storm cloud since Mark left, and now you’re breaking the heart of this woman who, as far as I can tell, has done nothing wrong by you. It’s not like you, and you know it.” As he said this, her head fell, and she stared down her slippers, feeling ashamed. “Come on, Luce. Bring the tea over, and let’s talk about it,” he finished, a stern look on his face.

There were very few people in the world who could push her around like Jawed. Her grandmother had been the same. She could see right through Lucy whenever she had tried to hide a deeper secret. Jawed had this same ability, and he didn’t budge an inch when he had a point to make. He’d been by her side for years through good, and bad. He’d been in the wings with her through the worst of things with Mark.

She looked at him. He looked at her. He wasn’t budging, and she knew it. She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping in resignation.

“Fiiiiiiiine,” she said quietly, rolling her eyes and sounding like a sullen teenager. She brought the mugs of tea over to the coffee table, where her and Sue had sat all those months ago.

“So you kissed Sue, and you just told me that you don’t care about other people knowing you’re with women, and you got caught by paparazzi, but that’s not her fault. So—tell me what’s really going on? Why are you ignoring her? If you’re not interested, just tell her. Sue’s fine, she’d move on. I mean, half the dykes in England want to marry her, so I know _she’d_ be fine,” he finished, gently punching her knee with his fist, a cheeky smirk on his face.

She avoided his eyes, took a deep breath, and then all the words started coming out of her in one big long messy string of feelings.

“Jawed, I kissed Sue, and I thought it would just be a bit of fun, but it was completely like nothing else I’d felt in the longest time, and Mark hadn’t kissed me like that in years, and I’d had lovers, but it was different, and when I kissed Sue it felt like the moon eclipsed the sun or the heavens opened up, and you know I don’t believe in that rubbish, but that’s the best I can come up with right now, but I can’t go through what I went through with Mark again, because he left me and he broke my heart and I’m terrified _Sue_ will break my heart too, because I’m a complete and utter mess, and who wants to be with a mess, and I don’t know if I can survive that again, because I think I really like her.” She finished abruptly, and turned to look at him. She took another deep breath in, and a slow breath out, her brows knitted in a panicked look.

“Look at you being all grown up and expressing your feelings! I wish all your dull fans in tweed jackets with elbow patches could see you like this. They wouldn’t believe the normally-so-articulate Lucy Worsley could be such an incoherent bucket of emotions.” He was chortling at her, but he squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

“Oh, shut up,” she sneered, but she couldn’t be mad at him. It felt good to get it out, even if she _had_  been emotionally incoherent.

Jawed poked his tongue out at her. “Ok, look. So, you like her, right?” He stared at her expectantly.

“Yes. Quite a lot I think.” She took a long sip of warm tea. Nothing like an earl grey to steady one’s mood.

“And you want to talk with her, and make out with her, and listen to her terrible puns on the reg?”

“You’re a total shit, sometimes, Jawed,” she said, annunciating her words very carefully. 

“Whatever, you love me for it. So Luce, why are you holding back? Look, the world is a mess most of the time. Most people are just a pile of dull conversation, disappointing sex and a hearty slather of ignorance. Sue’s jokes _may_ be terrible, but it sounds as if _you_ like listening to them, right?” He stared at her as though his point was perfectly obvious. 

She nodded.

“So, life’s too short to get caught up in the what-ifs. Maybe she will end up just playing you, but from what Jaime said, she’s wandering round a complete wreck without you too. Maybe you should give _both_ of you a chance. Maybe she’ll fuck it up, and maybe she won’t. Hell, maybe you’ll fuck it up. But, if you sit around on the fence about it, she’ll move on, and you’ll only regret not giving it a go,” he said poignantly, giving her his most bracing smile. “And then you’ll end up as that crazy old woman chasing people away from her cottage with a gnarled old broom, and that is _not_  a good look for you. Rags would go dreadful with your complexion.” He gave her the most ridiculous look, and snorted in delight at his own joke.

Tears were leaking out of the corners of her eyes now, and she was laughing and crying at the same time, and feeling a bit pathetic about it. He pulled her into a one armed hug, and wiped away her tears with his thumb.

“Jawed, there’s something else. I think she might be done with me and my—well, this,” Lucy gestured at her blotchy red face, “I mean, really—I’m an emotional mess lately, and I think maybe I’ve shut her out and run away too many times. You should see the message she sent me this morning.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Lucy’s eyes goggled, and Jawed looked surprised, too. Was it Sue?

She hurried to open the door.

She sighed when she saw a gangly man in a high-vis jacket stood there, a delivery truck behind him. “I got a parcel for Lucy... Weasley? Hah, like Harry Potter,” he said, looking very pleased with himself. He was holding a medium-sized cardboard box with the Amazon logo on it. Lucy looked unimpressed at his joke. 

“What’s going on?” Jawed called, craning his neck so he could see the doorway.

“It’s just the post,” she called out to Jawed, sticking her neck around the door, as she signed for a package.

“Oh,” he said, sounding bored.

The courier left, and Lucy closed the door.

“I didn’t think I’d ordered anything,” she said, looking confused as she set the box down on her desk by the window. She grabbed a letter opener and prised open the brown packing tape on the box.

The smell of new books filled her nostrils. She loved that smell. It was one of those smells that comforted her in even the worst of times. She pulled out three books with a card on top of them. When she turned to read the spines, she saw that they were all by Sarah Waters. She placed the books carefully on the desk, her heart thumping in her chest, as she opened the card. Jawed, by this point, had scuttled over to peer over her shoulder.

Inside, it read:

> _To the ineffable Lucy Worsley,_  
>  _Just a short note to say that I’m truly glad for all the sublime conversation we shared, and most of all, the Tudor Brunch edition of University Challenge._
> 
> _It’s time for me to let this chapter in our lives close, but whether or not our paths cross again, I couldn’t bear the fact that you haven’t experienced one of Britain’s greatest authors._
> 
> _Enjoy the read, be well and happy, and hopefully one day we can catch up for a Sarah Waters book club and some horrible tea._
> 
> _Until then,_  
>  _Sue._

The pit of Lucy’s stomach dropped in a sickening plummet. She looked at Jawed, who was staring back at her and shaking his head expectantly. “What the hell is wrong with you, Luce? You know you love that grammatically beautiful shit. Go fight for her!” 


	15. The bold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy calls Sue in the hope of getting her to reconsider, but Sue isn't sure

_Recommended listening:[Portions for Foxes](https://open.spotify.com/track/4yY8JqTOQyi7K4O1QcQtBG?si=SY60pV58TUiWPSBMEFG0Lw) by Rilo Kiley_

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. She wasn’t ready for this. She should hang up. She could call her again another time when she was ready, feeling more confid—

“Lucy? Uhh hi, I didn’t expect you to call,” Sue answered, sounding surprised and a little dismissive.

“Yes, hi, hello. Hi Sue. I got your package. Thanks for... that. How have you been?” She was trying to sound normal and relaxed, but she knew she was probably failing.

Sue paused before answering. Lucy could hear her breathing slowly on the other end of the phone while she contemplated her answer. “Well, it’s been a bit difficult lately, truth be told.” Sue sounded standoffish. Lucy hated hearing her sound that way.

“Yes, well...,” Lucy steeled herself to say what she knew she had to say. “I know... that I’ve probably been a big part of that,” Lucy said slowly and carefully.

“Mmm, yeah, a bit,” Sue said coolly, the tone of her voice flat. She could hear Sue pacing on floorboards. “Look, Lucy, I’m not sure I can chat to you right now. It’s just really hard to do this with you when—“

“Iwantyou,” Lucy blurted out, in an incoherent garble of words.

“Sorry?”

Lucy took a deep breath. “I mean, I want to see you. And I want you. I want to _be_  with you. To date you. If, of course, you still wish to date me.” Lucy finished, her heart hammering, her stomach in knots. She paused, waiting to see if Sue would answer, and she heard the sound of Sue clicking her tongue softly, as if thinking carefully about what to say.

“Lucy, you’re... one of the most brilliant, gorgeous and compelling people I’ve ever met in my life. But I—I can’t handle you stringing me along. I won’t let someone do that to me. I deserve better. I know you’ve had a difficult year, and I’ve tried so much to be patient, but I can’t be with someone who shuts me out constantly. I’ve been there before. It hurts too much.”

Lucy could hear Sue’s voice cracking as she finished her sentence, and it felt like a stab to her heart. She adored this woman, and she’d caused her so much pain. She felt wretched, sick to the pit of her stomach.

Sue continued. “What I said in my card to you, Lucy—I’ve made peace with things. Maybe we’re just not right for each other right now.”

Lucy gulped, blinking hard, and slowing her breathing deliberately.

“Sue, I’m so sorry,” she sighed into the phone. “I’ve been horribly selfish. Yes, I’ve been going through a lot, but how I’ve treated you is unkind. The truth is—I was afraid. I met you, and you you made me feel things that I hadn’t felt in a long time. And the last time I let myself feel those things with someone, they were taken away from me. I was afraid to let you in. I was afraid to let myself fall in to the feelings I’ve been having. Because if I did, and you went away, I would be a complete wreck. But... the thing I’ve realised now is that I’m a complete wreck without you. I want you in my life. That is, if you’ll have me in yours.”

Lucy wondered if Sue was going to respond, but when a few seconds passed and she didn’t, Lucy continued.

“Sue, I know I’ve not done much to earn your trust. At best, I’ve been like an emotional metronome, and at worst, I’ve been hurtful and unkind. And you’ve been nothing but patient, and sweet, and so thoughtful of what I’ve been going through. Sue, if, after all this, you can find it in yourself to trust me, I want you to know that I’m all in,” she finished as calmly and assertively as she could muster.

A silence hung between them.

Finally Sue spoke. “Is there anything else?” she asked, a little curtly.

Lucy felt dejected. “No. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“I’ll need a few days to think about things, if that’s ok with you.” Lucy could tell that Sue wasn’t really asking.

“Yes!” Lucy responded immediately, sounding a little more excited than she probably should have considering how dire the situation was. Sue was basically saying ‘Maybe yes, but possibly no’ to her, which she knew would cause her to fret for days to come. But in amongst all of that, there was hope.

And she’d take hope.


	16. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue is recounting the drama of the last week following her phone call with Lucy, and deciding whether or not to give Lucy another chance.

_Recommended listening:[Walking Wounded](https://open.spotify.com/album/459tNoDnuv0bL9ue9pENVz?si=OiBTT5xWTw6Rnvm5j2CQcA) by Everything But The Girl_

Sue hung up the phone.

“For fuck’s sake!” she yelled out loudly in her empty house, pacing around her lounge room. “What the actual fuck, Lucy,” she uttered under her breath grumpily.

What she wanted right then was a stiff drink. That was a bad sign. Instead, she went to fix herself a cup of tea. While it brewed, she rage-texted Jaime.

She placed her phone on the bench top, and walked over to sit on her comfortable green sofa. She was so annoyed right now. She’d just finished consoling herself about the fact that things with her and Lucy weren’t going to work out.

After months of pining and and persistence, this most recent week of Lucy completely shutting her out after what happened at brunch had finally convinced her that she had to let Lucy go. Whatever headspace Lucy was in, and however much Sue wanted to be with her, it wasn’t worth the anxiety and rejection her head had been swimming in.

She’d tried being patient, she’d tried reaching out gently to Lucy, sending little messages, not wanting to pressure her too much. But after total radio silence for over a week, a calm had finally fallen over her on Monday morning.

And so she’d gone onto Amazon to send her favourite Sarah Waters novels to Lucy as a farewell peace offering. She’d spent about an hour on the Amazon gift card, wanting to come up with the right wording that sufficiently expressed her feelings, but clearly conveyed to Lucy that she was moving on.

She’d felt that her first draft of “Fuck you why can’t you just tell me what the fuck you want,” was a bit harsh.

Her second draft had been a _slightly_ less hostile: “Dear Lucy, I need to tell you that I’ve been in love with you for months now, but all you do is string me along and it’s breaking my fucking heart, so I’m moving on.” But she nonetheless felt as if it didn’t really set the tone she was going for.

Because maybe... in a few months, or years, if the timing was right, if they were both single, if the universe lined up just so, they’d be together. Maybe?

 _No, Sue, you can't think like that._ She’d had to bodily shake herself to bring herself out of this train of thought, because she’d known it would only make things worse. It had seemed so unlikely at that point that she would end up with Lucy. And it certainly wasn’t okay for her to repeatedly be left by Lucy in this kind of emotional limbo.

She hadn’t been mad at Lucy, exactly, but she had definitely felt frustrated at the situation. She knew what it was like to go through a breakup with a long-time partner. But why couldn’t Lucy just tell her what the hell was going on? Just talk to her? Just say... something, anything?

What stung the most was that had been like this, at the end, with Anna. She’d been shut out, and pushed away. _Is it me?_ she wondered. She’d tried so hard to fix things with Anna, tried so hard to come up with a way to make things ok between them. It had driven her to dark places, and to feelings of profound negative self-worth: that she was a failure; that no one could ever truly love her; that she over-analysed everything; and irritatingly, that if she just analysed the situation a little more, a little longer, she would find some magic solution, something she could say, that would make Anna stay...

But in the end, she’d had to let go of Anna. She couldn’t continue live in that house with her. She might as well have been talking to herself most days; Sue would say something and days would pass with no response. And so while it had destroyed her to leave, she’d had to do it, for her own sake. It had hurt too much to be the only one reaching out and trying to make things work.

On Monday, the day before Lucy had finally called back, in the midst of when Sue was trying to write the message that Amazon gift card that would convey what she needed it to—that she’d enjoyed their time together, but was bowing out—Sue had found herself hunting through her copy of Sarah Waters’ _The Night Watch_ for something. She'd scanned the small plastic post-it tabs stuck on about a dozen pages throughout the book. After a minute or so, she had found the passage she was after.

In it, Kay, an ambulance worker in the second world war, is talking to a patient: 

> _“You're not in love with anyone, are you?'_  
>  _'No,' said Kay. 'Someone's in love with me, as it happens. A grand person, too… But that's another secret. I'm thinking of the morphia, you see. I'm counting on your not being able to remember any of this.'_  
>  _'Why is it a secret?'_  
>  _'I promised the person it would be, that's all.'_  
>  _'But you won't love him back?'_  
>  _Kay smiled. 'You'd think I would, wouldn't you? But, isn't it funny—we never seem to love the people we ought to, I can't think why…”_

She’d stood there, looking up from the book out the window, and watched the snow falling outside. She always liked the way the world was quieter whenever the snow fell.

And then she had put the book down, sat on the couch with her laptop, and written the message that she’d finally sent to Lucy:

> _To the ineffable Lucy Worsley,_

Because Lucy was indescribable; an enigma to her. 

> _Just a short note to say that I’m truly glad for all the sublime conversation we shared, and most of all, for the Tudor Brunch edition of University Challenge._

Because she _had_  enjoyed the time they’d spent together. The laughs; the historical rabbit-holes; and, when Lucy  _had_ been emotionally present, the way she felt like she could talk with her about anything.

> _It’s time for me to let this chapter in our lives close, but whether or not our paths cross again, I couldn’t bear the fact that you haven’t experienced one of Britain’s greatest authors._

Because, whilst things had to end for them, for now, it was just plain wrong that someone like Lucy _hadn’t_  read such great pieces of queer historical fiction—and truth be told, she had wanted Lucy to have something truly great to remember her by. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to _entirely_ vanish from Lucy's memory _too_  soon.

> _Enjoy the read, be well and happy, and hopefully one day we can catch up for a Sarah Waters book club and some horrible tea._
> 
> _Until then,_  
>  _Sue._

Until then.

More than twenty-four hours after she had written those words by consigning them to an Amazon gift card, those same words now played in her mind.

Lucy had just called to ask for Sue to give her—or, them both—another chance. _Until then_ had suddenly, unexpectedly, become _right now_.

She’d had twenty-four hours of feeling her mood lighten, of letting go, of making peace. Sure, she’d wondered if she’d made the right decision, but in the end she had felt ending things with Lucy was right for _her_.

She’d gone for dinner with Jaime—who had been her fast friend through all of this, and the many dramas that had come before—a few hours after she’d sent the package to Lucy, carrying with her the first semblance of calm she’d had in a while.

But the call from Lucy had undone all of that. Suddenly she was back in the angst and tumult of the week prior once again.

Sue picked up her mug of tea, and paced anxiously around her house, thinking.

“I can’t... I can’t keep doing this,” she said to herself, as she set her mug down and tidied some books on the bookshelf.

 _But you really like her, Sue,_ a voice inside her whispered quietly.

“But it’s not ok for her to shut me out,” she mused aloud, as she folded the throw rug that had been draped over the back of the couch.

 _So tell her that, then,_ the voice suggested.

“But what if she does this again?” she asked herself, plopping down on the couch, pulling her feet up close to her, grabbing the throw she’d just folded and cocooning herself anxiously all the way up to her spectacles within its soft warmth.

 _Maybe she will, but you deserve the chance to be happy, and if you reject her right now, you might never know what could have been,_ the voice finished.

She watched the steam rising from her tea on the coffee table, as she contemplated her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments very welcome :)


End file.
